


Hurt and Heal

by MinaB



Series: Life & Death [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Comatose Bonnie, Episode: s03e15 All My Children, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Romance, Season/Series 03, for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaB/pseuds/MinaB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life took an ugly turn for some residents of Mystic Falls when circumstances broke Caroline Forbes, Stefan and Elena left behind the town and all its denizens, Bonnie fell into a coma and Katherine died unexpectedly. Sheriff Forbes has to take care of her hurting daughter and her distraught friend, Damon, all the while struggling to keep herself upright against the pressure of her own life. Will things get better? Will Klaus return to help? What will be Bonnie's fate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

_Blood_ soaked the ground, once a healthy brown colour now stained crimson by the broken body, twisted and cut open on the forest floor Her hazel eyes were dull and her skin pale and stone cold, her usually clean designer clothes now ripped and dirty hanging from her corpse. Her attackers seemed long gone by now, but why would they remain? They had succeeded in their plight. She was facing north, looking toward _his_ house, as she lay dead in a pool of her own _blood_.

* * *

 

_Sun_ shone brightly in the sky above of deep clear blue that resembled her eyes, pure and untouched as she'd once been. But that was a while ago, back when she could laugh hearty with her friends and dance and have fun without the ever-present memory of _that night_. She supposed she shouldn't, but she couldn’t stop the blame on both him, but mostly on herself. He had promised her, protection. He'd been too late, liar. Because at the end of the day she was still a shell of what she had been, forever haunted by the night she'd stopped shinning like the _sun_.

* * *

 

_Darkness_ stretched out around him, drowning the ache and the horror he'd witnessed during his long, empty life. It had been that way ever since he could remember until it began fading away, disappearing slowly with the sound of her melodious voice and the sight of her angelic face. His loneliness was being overrun by her presence, he could not sleep, think, eat without her in his mind, so when _her light_ began fading he cursed the weakening _darkness_.

* * *

 

_Tears_ had not grazed his face in a very long time, not since he'd first lost _her_ , so when he stopped his nightly run through the forest at the familiar tang of dry blood, he thought nothing of it, except the usual curiosity drawing him in. Yet even then, he realized, as he dug the hole that would become her final resting place, that his heart ached and hurt, that his eyes grew heavy with salty water and his stomach clenched painfully. That the smell was not a random person's. As he stumbled upon her body, torn and bent at impossible angles, he wished he could find the strength to let them run freely again, he wished them back, the _tears_.

* * *

 

_Love_. Her last thought had been of love as she was beaten and dying. She cursed her attacker for weakening her, she cursed her body for falling under its effects and, more specifically, she cursed herself. For lying her whole life, for deceiving the innocent, for hurting and killing others like it was now done to her and for hurting _him._ She had known it was a stupid, horrible idea to lie to him again. She had realized her mistake as the words tumbled out of her mouth and his face crumbled with the agony of the world, but it had to be done. He was in danger for loving her and she couldn't let that happen, not to him, so as she drew her last, unnecessary breath, she looked toward him and thought of their lost _love_.


	2. Liz Forbes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz takes care of her friend.

 

Katherine was dead. Caroline was still stuck in her closed off little world. And he, Damon, was lost. He didn't know what to do now, now that his final tie to his past and the one woman he'd truly loved was gone. Sure, he'd said time and again that he hated her after what she'd done to him and his- No, the thought of Stefan was too much right at this moment, he didn't need to remember the day he and his girlfriend left him here, alone and dying. If only Caroline was once again herself, she'd know what to say, or do, to ease this pain inside his chest. She was, after all, the one to save him and stay by him once his traitorous brother left him for dead. But Caroline was engulfed by darkness as each day passed and there was nothing anyone could do to bring her out of it.

Shaking his head, Damon recalled the day Klaus, the so-called heartless hybrid, left the town. It was only two weeks ago that the Original's final proverbial drop spilled over the proverbial glass as he watched the blonde beauty he'd learnt to love scratch her skin raw in the shower again. He stopped her, fought against her slaps and endured her cries of pain until the damage was repaired and she was once more under her mother's watchful eyes before he took off.

Bending, the brunet vampire picked up Katherine's grey and battered body, descended into the hole he'd dug and laid her down, softly. He took great care in making it look natural, in making her dress cover her curves and brushed her hair back. He got back up, and, with one last fleeting look, he began filling the grave with earth.

* * *

 

Liz Forbes has had a relatively hard life, but she never knew just how difficult and painful it could be until she saw the bruised, bleeding body of her only child, _of her little girl_ , in Klaus' arms as the hybrid cried. She will never forget that night. Caroline had been on a date with her boyfriend of about two years Tyler, the night had been fun and full of happiness, albeit a bit tense as were most of their dates lately, until she told him she wanted to break up. Liz knew the kids’ relationship was crumbling to pieces even before everyone else saw it, it was just not meant to be. Tyler was impulsive and rash and violent while Caroline was a dreamer, independent and sweet. Also, the two had been apart for months by the time the former werewolf turned hybrid returned and by then it was too late. Liz also guessed, before even Caroline herself, that her daughter was falling hard for Klaus. The jewellery and the dress and the ball invite had been a good start but the drawings had been the final step and before long the blond vampire was lost. Oh, if only Tyler had controlled himself, if only her sweet angel had gone straight home, if only those God damned bastards had been fewer! Or Klaus faster.

_No! He isn't to blame. He did try and had he not been there, Caroline could have been worse off still!_ The sheriff chastised herself. Klaus had been surprisingly helpful in aiding her and her daughter after the fateful night. And even more so, in caring for them. Liz had known that the hybrid was at the very least taken with Caroline, but as time went by, the woman was assured it had long since developed into love. She also didn't blame him for leaving. He had done more than inhumanly possible to help and bring the old Caroline back, but even he had his limits. He could not stand the hurt look any longer nor could he stand the reproaches and hits. Especially not after rereading her letter. Her daughter had been incredibly smart. She knew who she loved and she also knew that a phone call wouldn't be enough so she sent Klaus a letter explaining all of her feelings. He'd been away on business, something to do with his wayward psychotic mother, and wasn't due to return until far later. Her letter had brought him back at the perfect time to see her spiral into the darkness she saved _him_ from. Fate has a very dark sense of humour he'd once confided in Liz, his body looked tired and his eyes haunted as they sat at her kitchen table and drank a cup of coffee. She remembered nodding and sipping the black liquid as he stared off into nothing.

"Liz!?" she jumped and spun around to face Damon. He had been helping them as well, as much as he could after Caroline healed his broken spirit and mended his physical wounds. He felt as if he at least owed 'Blondie' so he did what he could, she had become his friend so he couldn’t just abandon her now.. He usually cooked and cleaned the mess, occasionally looking after the girl in question. As they were forced to work together, Klaus and Damon had developed an odd friendship over their mutual care for her daughter. Liz was glad at least one good thing had resulted from this horrible situation.

"Damon..." she began uncertain.”What's wrong?! Why are you covered in blood?!" her voice took a louder tone at the sight of him. However, despite the obvious clues, she had come to the conclusion something bad had happened at the look in his eyes. They had never seemed so lost and full of anguish as they did now.

She ignored his "I'm fine" retort and dragged him to the bathroom. She stripped him of his clothes and led him to the shower, instructing him to clean up as one would a child. If he heard her she could not know as he gave no indication as she rushed to get some clothes for him. She left them on the sink counter and returned to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. She waited and waited for him but an hour passed and then another and a feeling in her gut told her to check on him so she did.

She found him in the same position she'd left him in. Standing in the spray of water, now gone cold, staring into space. She rushed and took a large 'fluffy' towel, her daughters’ favourite before this whole mess, and enveloped him n it, pulling him outside. She let him into her bedroom, all the while rubbing up and down his arms. She began drying him off and her heart stopped for a second as she felt his skin as cold as ice as well as its blue-purple colour. She felt like he was her child as well so she took great care in warming him up and dressing him. Once that was finished, Liz led him to the kitchen and pushed the steaming cup of tea in his hands.

"Damon...Damon!" she screamed and his head snapped in her direction. She saw his brow furrow and his face contort into a frown of confusion.

"Liz? What's going on? How... how did I get here?!" She shook her head. She had no idea what had happened to bring him here.

"What do you remember?"

"I... Oh God! Katherine!" he jumped to his feet, shaking the table and spilling a few drops of the hot liquid onto the wood as he began pacing in an agitated manner. It was her time to frown now. Straining her human ears to catch what he was muttering she managed to catch "Katherine" "damn" "blood" and "dead". It didn't take a genius to piece it so Liz immediately guessed that Katherine Pierce was now dead and that her death had affected Damon more than anyone would know.

"Damon... hey!" she took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She got up and threw her arms around him. As she felt him reciprocate, she also heard the broken sob that was ripped from his throat. Finally he  could cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if the whole thing was rushed, it it was I apologize, this was written a while ago and despite trying to sooth over some issues I think it might still be a bit ...meh. Regardless tell me what you think.


	3. Klaus Mikaelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus returns.

 

Once Damon calmed down enough to explain, the he and Liz resumed their tea and debated what could now be done. Damon had let the usual wall surround him again, making his emotions perfectly – well, almost, for Liz already knew what she should look for in him – masked. After having known him for 2 years, she'd learned, as time went by, to read him even when no other could. As she listen to him tell his story, she took into account the minuscule clench of him hand on the cup, or the haunted look in his eyes, or the low tone of his voice. It was easy to pinpoint his heartache in this manor, he'd never been one to think rationally; he always followed his instincts. They were, after all, what led him back home. His love for … Katherine.

"So what should we do? Should I try to find whoever killed her, or should I … rejoice?"

She waited for him to be attentive before she told him what she thought. "I think you have to try and find them. You... owe it to yourself. Damon, I know you think she deserved it, but you need this closure." She saw him nod, but she would never know what he was going to say as she heard Caroline bang the wall her head had been propped against. She rose to her feet and rushed to her daughter's room.

"Caroline... sweetie? Are you alright? " Of course there was no answer, there hadn't been one in months, but she had hope still. Slowly, as to not scare the volatile girl away, Liz approached the bedside and cautiously slid a pillow behind the vampire's head. She could see the new stains of blood on the concrete and the gash forming in it. Despite the obvious lack of focus in her daughter, her strength and speed had increased with the loss of control. Vaguely, Liz registered Damon's presence inside the chamber, but it wasn't until she felt Caroline's fangs pierce the skin of her arm that she truly saw him. He was fast enough to pull her back before Caroline could do any real damage, but the beat of her heart still jumped and the vampire renewed her struggle against the bonds that kept her from hurting either herself or others.

Sometime after this episode, Liz remembers Damon feeding Caroline a blood bag, but she's too focused on the always returning thought of getting rid of the chains that hold the blonde girl tied to the bed. She is her mother so the sight of her in chains can only worsen her heartache. Closing her eyes to the sound of Damon's voice whispering in the other room, Liz recalls Caroline's last aware moment. She had been spiralling into the never ending darkness that seemed to follow vampires all around the world when the girl grabbed the sheriff's arm to pull her down to her level. Liz flinched but went without question.

" _Mum, tie me up, I think this is the last power I have left to spare."_ she had said before falling to sleep. Liz had dismissed her words for the moment as Klaus came to take Caroline's hand in his and kissed her knuckles, but, by the next morning, Caroline was gone. Her mind had been taken over by the vampire inside, ruled by blood-lust and instinct. Had Klaus not been there, the girl would have drained half of Mystic Falls and then some before Damon could have caught her.

Liz recalled the reaction to her suggestion. Klaus' scream of "Have you gone mad?!", Damon's disbelieving stare and, before Bonnie fell in a coma due to the brain injury of being slammed into a wall by Caroline, the witch's temper flaring and making the light flicker before they exploded. The thought of Bonnie still hurt Liz, she should have been more careful so that it never happened, yet she hadn't. She was still unsure why vampire blood had failed to awaken the witch, but maybe she'll never know. All that remained was a comatose Bonnie Bennett, a missing Klaus, a hurting Damon … and herself.

"Liz... I'm off. I want to check out the place I found Katherine in before it's too late. Can you..." he trailed off, knowing the woman understood. She nodded and got up to check on her sleeping daughter. How long would it be before she awoke again? Will she ever? The last question gave her shivers, but it was an option nevertheless. Maybe this was a healing attempt, she wondered when the front door closed with a quiet click and she was once again alone with her absent-minded daughter. Never in her life had she thought it could be possible, but she'd been wrong before, so why not this time as well?

* * *

 

Klaus Mikaelson had always been led by his emotions and ambition, well, that is until he met her. Caroline Forbes. The new vampire had somehow crawled under his skin and latched herself there, filling him with her light and joy for life and, before he knew it, he'd fallen. He'd done what he'd sworn to never again happen after Tatia, he'd fallen in love.

The road was dark and empty, the street lights barely making a difference to normal people, but he was not normal. He was a hybrid and thus he needn't them, but he couldn't not be reminded of what awaited him upon return. The desolate and eerie atmosphere was no more than a heads-up to what was yet to come. He'd been gone for two weeks now, yet somehow he knew nothing had changed, well, nothing significant. Caroline, his beautiful, strong Caroline would still be lost and chained to that damnable bed when he returned and there was no way, that he knew of, to remedy that.

Sometimes, as he closed his eyes, he could hear her laughter, or see her smile brighten the room, but then he'd open them again and she'd still be gone, trapped inside the deepest recesses of her mind in a desperate attempt to ignore reality. He felt rage swell up inside every time he thought back on that night. He'd been so, so happy when he'd read her letter. When his eyes traced those wonderful words she'd written for him that he rushed immediately back to the dreary Mystic Falls to see her. What he hadn't, in another thousand years, thought could happen was what welcomed him. As he neared her house, he heard screams. Usually he would have ignored the infernal noise, but this time was different. The agonized yells for help were hers and he needed to move faster. He left the car in the middle of the road and ran to the place they were coming from.

What awaited him there was nothing short of tragedy. His Caroline was held down and beaten by a man while two others were... He couldn't think about that now, the steering wheel already having developed bumps from holding it too tightly. He had killed the two easily, they were wretched humans after all, but the other one... he'd escaped. Klaus wasn't sure what the man had been, but there was nothing human about him, except the outer shell. The bastard had escaped and for the life of him, Klaus couldn't find him!

"Fuck!" he spat as he punched the board of the car. How could this happen, no one eluded him! No one! A screeching sound caught his attention as a truck almost hit him. He steered right and avoided the crash, his mind redirected briefly from the trauma usually haunting it. He wished the young vampire hadn't changed him so. If he were still the harden man he had been when he first returned to Mystic Falls, then _this_ would have been easier, but he wasn't. _She_ had changed that and by doing so, him. He no longer cared about his hybrids or his mother's betrayal, he was now too focused on making her better again. On returning her light. He needed her back even if he were to relinquish his own life.

"Oh, sweetheart... what could you possibly be experiencing inside your mind to keep you away for so long? Is it that much better than reality?" but despite this, Klaus knew the truth. Anything was better than her reality, anything was better than waking up as a rape victim.


	4. Caroline Forbes I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline wakes up.

When Damon returned the next morning, his face had taken a rather ashen colour and his eyes turned a few shades darker than usual. Liz was sitting on Caroline's bed, the girl was awake but otherwise unresponsive as the woman braided her hair and sang a soft lullaby. The moment the man's face became visible, Liz tied the braid and swiftly got up.

"What's the matter? You... what did you find there?" the nervous stutter in her voice spoke of her worry and Damon decided to aid in that regard by pouring both of them a glass of bourbon. Taking a swig of the drink, Liz then focused her attention on the vampire's tale. He launched into a detailed description of the site, then he spoke of the way he'd found Katherine positioned – Liz had a hard time listening when this came up. In spite of the many sick things she'd seen in her line of work, this had taken the cake for sure. Who could think to twist a person's body so grotesquely and yet keep the person alive? It was cruel and inhumane! – then he finally began telling the necessary details, like foot prints and method of attack.

As he was reaching the end of it, Liz was already caught between crying and laughing in disbelief. From what Damon has managed to gather, the… _thing_ that killed Katherine is quite possibly the same one that violated Caroline. Now, usually, should a case like this arise at the precinct she would feel mildly sad and extremely angered, however this wasn't just another case where she could ignore all personal feelings. No! This was her daughter, this was about her and her friends and … Damn it all to hell! It hurt like a bitch!

Both were so caught up in their own painful memories and their heartache that neither paid any mind to the opening of the front door or the man entering the house. Klaus had arrived at just the opportune moment to hear Damon's declaration of "It might be the same bastard that did _this_ to Caroline". And since the hybrid had never been one for patience, the second the information registered in his mind, he punched a wall and stormed inside the kitchen. Liz was startled and Damon on guard, but both relaxed and yet grew more worried as they saw him.

"Klaus... you're back!" Liz exclaimed and stumbled towards the wrathful man, her mind having a pleasant buzz from all the bourbon she'd consumed. Failing to hug him properly due to the alcohol she'd drunk, she instead gripped his upper arm and began crying. The woman stayed in that position for a long time, enough for the two males to communicate the next course of action by just staring at each other. The obvious care they both felt for the girl in the next room had more than once led to their working together, but at this time, it was so much more tying the two supernatural creatures. A nod and it was over. They knew what had to be done, but first, Caroline had to be brought back to the land of the living and, if there was any way, then Bonnie should be healed as well.

* * *

 

There was a sense of peace all around her and she wished for it to never end...There was a light that she knew would never fade, yet somehow she also knew she would leave this paradise behind for she was tainted. Then the calm was trashed and she was ripped from heaven once more.

* * *

 

I was drifting, I realized that much the very second I got here, but where or why or even how I did not discover ever. I also was aware that this … _place_ was not real. It couldn't possibly be real as all I felt, saw, smelt, heard or tasted was pure white … nothing. I wasn't aware of eating anything, I didn't have a body. I _was_ light and that was... in itself, a wonder and a lie. I had a body, somewhere. I had a normal, real, flesh and blood and bones and muscles and all that made up a body, but my mind was elsewhere, I realized a few... _minutes_? _hours? days? weeks?_ later, and I felt oddly comforted. If I wasn't real, then I could feel no pain, no sadness no... no love, no joy. I started crying. I could somehow feel the salty water run down my face, but I couldn't move my hand to wipe it away. My mind was still lost here... wherever _here_ was.

White surrounded me everywhere and the peace I felt deep within was infinite. I never wanted to leave, but I knew, more than ever before in my life, that I should.

If I stayed longer, I would remain trapped and …

Mum! I yelled and it echoed throughout every corner. I wanted to panic if only to know I was alive still, but the perpetual calmness overwhelmed me.

"Mum?!" I heard myself utter and I felt my mouth move. How? For so long I had been lost, why now? I tried again, but this time, nothing. I swirled around, eyes darting in all and every direction all at once and my head _hurt!_ I was awaking! Ugh, why was I waking up? No no no no no NO! STOP! I don't want to wake up!

I don't want real, I take it back! Real hurts! I cried out, but no words emerged from my mouth.

_I take it back! I take it back! I take it back! Please please please! STOP!_

I felt like screaming! I was screaming. Why am I so stupid?! Why did I wish to return?!

"Klaus! She is waking up! I can't hold her down any more!" I heard mum speak. She sounded distressed, afraid even. Why? Was it something I did? Did I hurt her?

And … Klaus... what was _he_ doing here? Last I heard he left after … Esther, was it?! What happened? Why can't I remember?!

"Caroline? Sweetie? Are you there?" No mum, I'm in Timbuktu! Yes, I'm here! Wait! Wait wait wait! My voice... Can't I speak? Why can't I speak? Panic, I felt it now, I was filled with it, gradually swallowing me whole.

"Shh! Calm down. I'm here. Nod if you can understand me honey." she spoke as one would a baby or perhaps an idiot. I was neither. I peered through my heavy eyelashes and glared as best as I could. She was staring at me, patient and eager. Begrudgingly I nodded. What harm would it do?

"Can you speak?" I shook my head. Vaguely I heard a man- Damon?!- mutter something. I almost jumped at his neck. But I couldn't move. Why couldn't I...

Oh! Oh oh oh! I was tied. To my bed... weird...

"Yes, one second. I just... we need to make sure you won't attack us again, honey." Again? When did I? Never mind... I just want out of these things. Who came up with this genius idea? Damon? Or maybe someone else... Klaus? Nah, can't be him. He's... I'm not sure what he is, but he wouldn't do this to me, right?

"Okay, I'll cut these ones, but promise you won't do anything rash." Sure, what would I do? Rip into someone’s throat? I saw the scissors move up above my head and felt them graze my arm before hearing the tale-tell snip! and my hands were free. I gingerly rubbed each wrist in turn as I looked expectantly at mum and Damon. Ha! I knew it had been him! And, surprise, surprise, Klaus. What the hell was going on here? And why the kicked puppy look on their faces?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out the true action will begin. Comment what you think of this chapter. And thanks to the 2 guest that gave me kudos!


	5. Caroline Forbes II

"Uhm... what's going on? Did I do something? Has something happened?" the fast movement of her beautiful blue eyes darting from one to the other and then back again was a clear sign of her confusion, her panic however was easily recognizable by the ever moving mouth of hers. Despite this, none of the people staring at her in a combination of wonder, happiness and hurt alike, answered, choosing instead to marvel at her presence. Her voice had not yet returned, but that did not stop the ever flowing questions from spilling from her wordless mouth.

"Seriously! What's wrong?! Mum? Damon? K-Klaus?" her voice began trembling horribly in her mind. What was it with them? It's not like she's been asleep for ages! Right? So what was the big issue? Unwilling to be ignored, the blonde frantically shifts her view from one to the other questioningly.

Suddenly, as if finally they return to Earth, the sheriff cleared her throat and moved to sit beside Caroline, the distressed girl seeking comfort in her mother's arms.

The soft, whispered reassurance which came from the woman's lips was greatly appreciated and Caroline managed to calm herself down in a short while. She tried to remember anything, but her mind hurt whenever she did so. It was quickly becoming unbearable. Caroline stopped trying.

"Oh, sweetheart!" she heard Klaus whisper, yet he made no move to approach the embracing women. He was standing, a few feet away from her bed, his head bow and his face a mask of painful, agonized thoughts. Caroline lifted her head to look at him. She was ever more shocked to see him staring back, his own eyes riddled with puzzlement.

Frustrated, the blonde teen untangled herself from Liz and, sitting up on her own, she tried to convey her wish using her hands. She mimicked the movement of writing in order to ask them for some paper and pen. Nodding, Damon left the room only to enter it again mere seconds later, a notebook and a pen in hand. He handed them to her as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

Thankful, the girl inclined her head to him and took them. She didn't write anything however as her vision was directed to her legs. They were, much like her wrists, marred by the already healing lacerations from the rope that held her to the bedposts, but that was not the reason for her scrutinize. From her knees up, and further still as the lines disappeared underneath her short nightgown – an oversized T-shirt she'd bought ages ago – were what appeared to be scratch marks, red, blotchy and not healing. She put the notebook and pen on the sheets and bent, slowly, cautiously as her body was no longer used to operating itself, and traced one from the outer edge of the kneecap up over her thighs and further still over her hipbone stopping just below her breasts. She had forgotten about the other inhabitants of the room as she did so, only being reminded by Damon's suggestive cough and her mom's gasp. Caroline dropped the cloth and stood up, too quickly, she realized, as the wall spun and she was falling forward. She half expected to intimately be acquainted with the floor, but the usual slam which came with it never make its appearance. Instead she felt two pairs of hands steady her. Klaus was holding her up with his hands around her waist while Damon had instead chosen to push her shoulders back.

"Careful, Blondie!" came the brunet's voice as she came to her senses once more. She let the hybrid lead her back toward the bed and push her gently to sit down on it. Seeing the wisdom of the action, she settled back down and took the previously discarded pen and notebook. _What happened to me?_ She wrote and showed them the question. She saw their obvious discomfort and pressed harder. She needed answers! She pointed towards the written sentence and pinned them with a heated stare, as if to say "Answer me, dammit!" Caroline watched as tears gathered in Liz's eyes and as Damon avoided her gaze. Klaus however was conflicted. He seemed to debate whether to tell her everything or just parts of it. At last he appeared to make a choice as he turned to the other two.

"I'll tell her. I found her that night, after all." his voice held fear and anguish as he spoke and all those present could hear it. The blonde watched as her mom and her sire left the room, leaving her alone with the same hybrid who had time and again declared, in one way or another, that he loved her. She'd acknowledged the fact a while ago, maybe the night after the ball, maybe some other time, she wasn't sure, but she knew the truth. She scooted to her right, making space for him to join her.

 _Well... what happened? When did you come back? Why can't I remember what happened?_ She wrote and then showed it to him.

A few more seconds passed in complete silence as he thought of the best way to address the situation. "What is the last thing you remember?"

_Uhm...I'm not sure. I recall your mom leaving and you and the rest of your siblings going after her. I remember Tyler coming home. I also know I was planning to break up with him... I was going to write you a letter too... That's about it... I think..._

He nodded. "That you did. You sent it too. I still have it. You also broke up with the mutt the same night _this -"_ he gestured to her wounds "happened." She looked up at him surprised. What the hell?! When?! How?! Why didn't she have any recollection of any of this?!

_When was that, Klaus?_

"That was months ago. That night was approximately four months ago, you fell into this … _abyss_ about a month later." he tried to explain but she already knew what abyss he spoke of. Her moments of peace, her heaven. She nodded in disbelief. What could have driven her to this? She asked him so.

"You... oh, love, you were beaten and tortured and then... you were raped."

* * *

 

" _You... oh, love, you were beaten and tortured and then... you were raped."_

* * *

 

This phrase has been haunting me since. It's been three days since then and yet, I know nothing more about what had been done to me. Mom has been following me everywhere I go, all overprotective mother bear, Damon is so focused with catching whoever did this and killed Katherine – yes, I've heard about it – that he is almost never here. No, I can't say I am grieving for the 500 year old vampire bitch, but she did, unknowingly, help me so I am slightly sad – and Klaus, he just avoids me. I find it odd learning about myself during the so called abyss. I found out I had been mostly ruled by vampire instincts, but that I was still aware of what had happened. It would appear I had fought tooth and claw against anyone who tried to aid me in showering or dressing or eating or sleeping or really doing anything. I was mistrustful and hurt people. Mom even showed me a really long scar across her chest that I apparently helped create. I'm glad she did, otherwise I would be hard pressed in thinking they were lying about the gravity of the situation. I found nothing about the still unhealing, still painful scratch marks on my body.

I don't know what to say. I saw Bonnie today, finally. Seeing her connected to all these machines and tubes and knowing somehow, a while ago, I had been the one to put her there, hurts. _So much_. The hurtful sound of the ventilator that keeps her breathing will haunt me in my dreams and the beeping of her heartbeat makes something in my stomach twist painfully as I know she could die any day. Today, I talked to her and held her hand and cried. I don't think I've cried this much, ever, not even when dad –

Any ways, Klaus has been gathering information about witches so we can help her. Frankly, I think she's better of like this; no one can hurt her again this way. She is the one getting hurt every time we come up with a plan and she is the one that eventually saves the day. I wish she would stop, I wish she could no longer be hurt by us. Not by Abby, not by Damon, or Elena, Stefan, Klaus … me. _It's all my fault_. The first time mom told me about Bonnie, I didn't believe it, but when it finally sunk in, it was so hard to cope – _to breathe_ – with the thought that I had brought my best friend to a state near death.

I sometimes wish to remember everything, but then I look at the long scratch marks on my body and the thought leaves faster than when it came. Maybe I shouldn't remember. Maybe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Caroline is here, but with amnesia... what will happen now? Tell me what you think!


	6. Flashes in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline may be awake, but things have not gotten any better in Mystic Falls.

_The night was cool and joyous. I was walking back home, pleased, despite the slight pain in my arms. I had just broken up with Tyler and he hadn't reacted well. He'd lost his control and scratched me from the shoulders down. But at least he hadn't bitten me again. I ran as fast as I could when he began transforming, but regardless of that, the damage had been done. I could barely feel my arms, but at least I was free to do as I wished. It felt good, being free._

_Also, it wasn't like the wounds would not heal in a few minutes, I could already feel the skin stitching itself together._

_I was walking down an empty road, going home, when the noise of a twig snapping disrupts my meditative state. I look up and around, but see nothing so I just chuck it to the back of my head thinking it is just a small animal running around in search for food._ I've never been so wrong in my life.

_The moment I face forward again I feel the ridiculously familiar sensation of being sedated and kidnapped. But I don't fall asleep as I usually am forced to do, instead, I see two large, bulky guys come in front of me and, taking hold of each of my arms, they drag me slightly into the woods. I'm so dizzy and buzzed I can't even make a sound. I hate this feeling, of weakness, of being unable to control my own actions. Then, they dump me on the cool, hard forest floor and I curse, knowing my favourite top is now ruined. It's strange that when faced with these situation ones’ mind tends to drift and focus on the most trivial of things, I muse. The one who'd administrated the drug to make me 'compliant' – I'd heard someone in a movie say and I thought it fit the scenario extremely,_ frighteningly _, well – was suddenly at my heels and moving forward still. I suppressed a shudder of apprehension and tried to lift my head enough to glance at his or her face._

_I couldn't. I was paralyzed._

_My head was just beginning to hurt when he knelt next to me and flipped me onto my back so I was staring the devil in the eye. I gasped as I saw his face and frantically attempted to scurry away. He caught my useless act and put a stop to it by glaring at me. I don't know how it was …_ is _possible, but he'd rendered me boneless and motionless with that one look of ultimate hate. My heart rose in my throat and I swallowed hard, whimpering as he touched my ankle, caressing it. He smiled – a dark, cruel smile that froze my insides and twisted my stomach – and I don't know how I didn't just throw up right then and there, before I was pulled down, underneath him, his eyes meeting mine. I passed out._

* * *

 

Caroline Forbes got up from her bed so fast she was now backed up against the opposite wall, the shards of what used to be a vase splattered on the floor, breathing harshly through her mouth, panting even, with wide scared blue eyes and an unearthly scream being ripped from deep inside her very core. She trashed and turned in Klaus' arms when he tried to comfort and reassure her, whispering in her ear soft loving words. _Had he been here all night?_ Her mind wondered. She eventually came to her senses and relaxed, burying her face in his shirt. The onslaught of tears threatened to overwhelm her, but then he was pulling her face away and tilting it up, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and she blushed, laughing sheepishly, she couldn't remember what had frightened her so. He manoeuvred them back toward the bed.

"What was that, love? Why did you react like this, did you remember something?" he questioned as they laid on her bed, her blond head resting on his shoulder, his legs on either side of hers, her back to his chest. She was playing with his hands, thoughtful and concentrated as if it was the most important thing in the world when he broke the silence. She looked up to him, kissed the underside of his jaw and shrugged. She couldn't remember her dream anymore, though she knew it had been a nightmare. He let it slide as he was enjoying himself too much. Ever since her return to the world of the sentient she'd been more then open to him, affectionate, sweet and, dare he say it, loving. And, once he'd abandoned his stupid decision of ignoring her, the two had become almost inseparable. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't complaining in the slightest, it just seemed odd, the pace in which things were happening and, despite her letter, the time frame she was stuck in was one before the endearing white sheet written for him. He sighed and smiled brightly when he felt her snuggle further into his arms, a small moan of contentment escaping her lips. She was still very tired so it came as no surprise to him that when he looked down to see her she was already fast asleep. He shook his head and closed his own eyes. Rest was a welcome reprise from reality most often than not.

* * *

 

Damon and Liz had taken short but well earned break from taking care of the blond vampire currently hiding in Klaus' arms, not that they were aware of this.

Instead of being home, sleeping as any normal being was at this ungodly hour of night – or morning, mused Damon – the two were out drinking. Hardly had Liz been drinking with the vampire on duty or otherwise, but it was pleasantly calming, she found. Unable to stop herself she chucked one of the little umbrellas her margarita had at his head, slumped over the bar. It hit him in the middle of his black as midnight hair – _wow, she's full of comparisons tonight_ she giggled _–_ making him shoot up looking bewildered. He shot her a confused look and then laughed hard at the state of them. They _really_ were pathetic. No one, not one soul, was awake except for them and they were wasting time at a bar getting bat-shit drunk. What was wrong with them? They should be celebrating, only they didn't feel so celebrate-y lately, what with Katherine dying with no warning, Klaus' unexpected return and Caroline's miraculous come back to life sans memory so-to-speak. Life was shitty and they deserved to get fucking drunk if they wanted to!

Damon looked at Liz again and found she was softly snoring on her arms, a satisfied smile stretched on her lips. He blinked once and huffed. _He_ hadn't been allowed to sleep, so why was she?! But he couldn't move enough to return the favour without risking falling out of his stool so he sat and stared into nothing.

Unable to stop his mind from wandering and not fast enough to derail, it reached that month. Damon was painfully dragged into the past, about a day or so after Stefan and Elena left. He could still see Caroline's saddened smile.

"Ugh, why now?!" he mentally whined, but he nevertheless let it roll. His mind then drifted off to another day, further back. It had been the day after the Mikaelson's ball, Rebekah had just left after a good amount of gloating over Elena's obvious jealousy fit when he was bombarded by the most peculiar statement.

"If you're mad at me, Damon, you need to get over it" she'd said. How did she reach this conclusion?! He thought no longer amused. How does one think that, since he's slept with Rebekah, he is obviously mad at _her_?! Someone? Anyone?! No? Well, neither did he as he nonchalantly replied.

"Oh, I'm over it." He honestly tried to find it within himself to forgive her for last night, he even went so far as to consider she had been speaking out of anger for her plan being ruined, but he had known that was it. He knew manipulation, he’d been with Katherine, and what Elena had been doing was far crueler.

"I'm mad at you because I love you." he'd yelled at her the night before only to be hit with his own heart in the face. She'd managed to cut it out of him despite his best defences and now she was throwing it back, battered and heavy.

"Well maybe that's the problem." He couldn't remember exactly when they'd left, before or after he was being cut in half by a witch working with God-knows-who, all he knew was that he was slowly coming apart at the seams, barely able to think when he was left alone. If he had wanted lately to forgive Stefan, after this, he and his little girlfriend could go fuck themselves if they thought he’d ever trust them again.

He couldn't believe it when he'd woken up and found Caroline standing over him, a sad smile on her face and a roll of bandages in hand, drenched in blood from head to feet.


	7. Damon Salvatore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon remembers. Caroline forgets.

After his so called fight with Elena, Damon went back upstairs to his room. He wanted some peace and quiet – and really, could you blame him? Not only had she ruined his morning, she'd also put him in a foul mood. Why did Elena have to be so frustrating and hard to understand sometimes?! He'd thought they'd bonded, but it would appear he had been wrong. He lay on his bed and closed his eyes, exhaling once loudly. He didn't need to breathe but most times it was a reflex, right now though, he wanted complete silence so he willed it to stop altogether.

As he let his mind go over the last two years of his life, he failed to notice the short red haired woman levitating through his balcony doors. He let himself drift farther and further into his own thoughts as she stopped at the foot of his bed. She traced her eyes over his rather fit body, lingering at his abdomen area and neck.

She put one hand in her pocket and retrieved a knife – dagger might be a more accurate description – and turned it in her hand once, twice trice, measuring and calculating how fast or swift she could cut either body part. She settled on his waist, as it was harder to split giving her the time required to perform her spell.

Slowly focusing her mind on his shirt, she slowly undid each and every button that held it together and obscuring his alabaster skin. She watched as his chest was still, not rising, nor falling as he was not breathing. She briefly wondered if he had died already, but the thought was preposterous, unless he was beheaded, or staked or had his heart ripped out, or, maybe, desiccated, then there was no way he had died.

_Gasp_! He moved, turning slightly onto his right side, letting the shirt fall apart further. Holding her own breath, the red head's hand trembled, the knife getting slippery as she began sweating. She was a powerful witch, she knew this, but he was an almost two centuries old vampire that had a history killing witches. She had to be careful around him. A long, deep breath later, she spells the bedposts to wrap around his arms, holding him in place, then the sheets to twist around the torso, creating a tourniquet. He slept still, but a frown was slowly engulfing his handsome features. Another twist in her hand of the dagger. She lifts the hand, the tip of the blade pointing downwards, a mental chant, a tightening of the sheets and posts and she plunges forward.

"AHH!" Damon screams as he feels a sharp, stabbing pain inside his abdomen. His eyes snap open, his muscles clench, his limbs began pulling on the bonds keeping him in place and he smothers his screaming. He focuses on the young woman standing above him, her hand tight around the dagger handle, shaking somewhat and splattered with blood – _his blood_ – and he ponders what she could possibly want.

"What are you doing?!" he hisses, letting his vampire face show through. He struggles some more for a few seconds before she casts another spell that renders him unable to either move or speak. He muses whether Stefan or Elena heard the yell from earlier, but he can hear the car starting up. His eyes well up with unshed tears as the pain gets unbearable. She's twisting the dagger into the opening she'd created, then she begins cutting through flesh. To Damon's complete horror she'd manage to stop his healing process or at least slow it enough so he can't feel any relief from the wound that gets larger and wider with every second passed.

"Stefan? Are you sure Damon is fine? I heard him scream..." the voice of one Elena Gilbert barely registers in his mind when he hears his brother, callously, state "he's fine" and her humming in agreement. What is wrong with them?! He's obviously in pain! Get back inside, save him! But he lets the thought drift away as the car drives off and doesn't return. He vaguely recalls the witch slashing through his abdomen, so far inside his body he can feel her hands move through his intestines and the sharp blade graze his spinal cord, but he can no longer feel any pain, his skin is greying at an alarming rate and he wonders again if he's to die here, today. He losses consciousness when she brakes his spine, as white hot lava of pain rushes through him at incredible speed.

When he wakes up – though he had been sure he wouldn't ever again – he sees Caroline smiling down at him, tears falling from her eyes. She bends over, lifting him into her arms and takes the bandage, wrapping it around his – finally – healing flesh. He trashes when the stinging and ache settles in, but for the most part he is very much paralyzed from waist down. He still has trouble walking properly even after almost half a year, but it has healed beautifully. She had saved him from the witch before the red head could cut him truly in half. That explained the bloodied attire she wore as she bandaged him that day, the thought makes its way through his sleep-hazed drunken mind.

"Liz... LIZ!" someone yells and both him and his drinking partner, the woman in cause, jump three feet in the air. Clutching at their heads, they both glare at the bastard that dared disturb their sleep. Then they look at each other, then back again at the blonde young man before them, looking amused at their misfortune, then again at the other. Maybe they've become drinking twins, Damon ponders, highly amused himself, once the hangover passes, almost four hours later.

* * *

 

"What on Earth were you two doing?!" screams Caroline, voice fully operational after almost two weeks, hands on her hips, her blue eyes glaring intently at her mother and her friend. Weren't they supposed to be the adults? Haven't they taken care of her all this time?! She paced the very few steps she could make in her living room, gesturing wildly with her hands in the sky, rambling about who knows what. Liz winces and buries her head in her hands, groaning, her hangover not yet beaten, Damon scowls, rolls his eyes and gets up. He catches Caroline by the shoulders and shakes her a bit to calm her down. He doesn't think anything will come out of it, she's headstrong and has a fiery temper, but he most definitely doesn't expect her to shake so badly, or to jerk in his arms so harshly or – above all else really – he had no idea she was going to give out that heart-retching sob, that shakes _him_ to his very core.

"No! Please don't! Let – let m-me g-go, I … Please!" and he loses his grip, stumbling backwards. He watches as she collapses on the floor, he realizes as she trembles with the power of her cries and he sees as she shakes back and forth, over and over and over again. She remembers. The very idea that she could recall that night makes him want to commit murder – which, frankly, he has been wanting for almost nine months now – and kill himself at the same time. It's _his_ fault!

"I... I'm sorry." he whispers and, despite the obvious wish to bury his head in the sand, he makes a choice. He steps forward, kneels beside Liz, slowly extricating the older woman from around the young vampire and wraps his own arms, replacing Liz's. Shuddering, Caroline begins to relax, inhaling his scent and going lag in his arms. He lets go and moves only slightly out of the way. Blue eyes to gray-blue eyes, they meet and she smiles through her tears.

The next morning she remembers nothing from the night of the rape, but she has a renewed strength to fight with whatever has happened to her. She wonders if it's Damon's merit – with his unwavering faith in her strength – then she thinks it's Klaus' – his warm embraces and his love for her fuelling her fire – then she ponders that it may be her mom's – sticking to her like glue, protective, but willing to give her freedom – but she knows, deep down, that it is neither’s. It's her owns power shining through the walls of pain and fear, the light Klaus had see, the same one that had drawn Damon to her, the same one her mother had always believed was there. Her own.


	8. Passing by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline makes a decision

Every night for the past few day she's been consumed by memories she can not recall, her nights overtaken by nightmares she can't remember. It used to baffle and enrage her once upon a time, but now … now they are just small insignificant setbacks. Another night, another dream, another loss. Blond hair sticking to the skin of her neck, itching and wet, clothes drenched in her own sweat, a mute scream on her lips, chapped and dry as they are, skin flushed and angry red, the ever present scratches on her legs pulsing in a pain long forgotten. She can't think, she can't breathe. She's suffocating inside her own body, unable to free herself. Her ache is no longer physical, but psychological and emotional. _It hurts, every day, it hurts._ She says out loud in the quiet of the night, letting the words float and get engulfed by the never ending darkness. The same darkness that threatens to drown her. She wakes up, sometimes in the arms of Klaus, his warm – reassuring breath against her overheated skin – sometimes alone, but always afraid … and always hurting.

"I hate this!" she tells Liz this morning in the hopes of someone listening to her, for once. The blond sheriff turns to her, questioning, so Caroline begins her tale.

She finally let's go of all her reservations and confides in her mother with her feelings. Surprisingly, or not, Liz understands and even helps. She sleeps soundly that night.

Damon is gone again, New Orleans this time, Caroline recalls while eating breakfast. Another useless hope of awakening Bonnie, she tells herself, but at least he is trying to move on, to help, to live. The girl laments to herself. She's pathetic! Not only she does nothing all day, she can't even remember her own rape! If only she could so she could also tell them who the attacker was, but she can't.

* * *

 

Days pass slowly for the three of them as they try to find a way to awaken one Bonnie Bennett. Damon's trip has been unsuccessful, but it had brought hope, he had found a new lead, a new destination. He leaves in one week, meanwhile, Caroline takes it upon herself to make sure everyone is happy, while at the same time enjoying her newly acquired, daily, training sessions with both Klaus and Damon, and the occasional trip with her mum to the shooting range. Five days pass in this manner with no change in Bonnie's case and no new information about herself. Caroline becomes frustrated and tense, slowly paranoia takes hold of the young woman.

"Mom?" she calls out late at night after another nightmare that she can no longer recall and sweating, cold to the bone, shivering. Liz hears and swiftly, fast, she enters the room, lays on the bed and draws the blonde into her warm, calming arms. She never asks what she's seen for she knows it would do no good, only heighten the fear and anxiousness. Only this time something was different, instead of the usual crying and lack-of-memory-created confusion, Caroline is now calm and quite aware of her life. She still shivers, the cold sweat clinging to her sticky skin, but there are no more tears and none of the nonsensical combination of whimpers, whispers and screams accompanied by a distinct lack of coordination. She's calm.

"Mom..." she says, her voice warm and happy. Liz looks down confounded. _What just happened?_ Wasn her daughter's mind plagued with memories of the hurt and pain she'd experienced? In any case, her daughter was decidedly odd this night, perhaps for the first time in months.

"Sweetie, what happened?" Liz asks her in the dead of the night. Silence is what greets her, but she refuses to give up. She sees Caroline struggle in her arms and backs away. Perplexed, she watches her daughter climb out of bed, take off her old, baggy T-shirt and bend to trail a hand over the never healing scars. Brows curl and a frown appears on her face as the blond girl scratches at the supposedly raw skin. Horrified, but unable to move, Liz continues watching as Caroline grabs a scab and pulls, the red piece of skin coming off her leg and, continuing, over her hip, stopping bellow her breasts until there is none left to remove, all that remains behind is the long cord of dying flesh on the floor. The previous scar left way to new, healthy skin. Liz stands and Caroline begins pulling at the next scar, red, scabby skin lifting off rosy flesh and dropping to the ground where is disappears within seconds. A scream is torn out of Liz's mouth – surprised, but joyous – as the image makes sense at last, snapping Caroline's dream haze mid-pull.

"What? Mom? What am I doing?" voice trembling and hands shaking, the girl turns to her mother, afraid and confused. A long strand of dead flesh hanging off her leg, dangling like a thread, blowing in the wind. It is rather comical, Liz thinks, but in a morbidly, dark way.

"It's alright honey, just keep pulling at the damaged skin. You'll be fine." And so she does, terrified, but understanding as she looks at the belly. One by one, the last of the scars are removed and there is no more statement of what she had been through on the outside of her body.

"It's healed!" she jumps up and down in joy, hugging Liz and spinning the poor woman around for a few minutes. "It's healed!"

* * *

 

_It's healed..._ her mind supplies, mocking and cruel as Caroline showers later that day, water rushing over her, cleansing and stripping her of any and all sings of her struggle. She wants to cry, but what good would that do. She lets the mechanical moves of her hands take over as her mind drifts asleep, searching and probing for the lost memories. She needs to know! She's wanted to forget before, but now she _has_ to know! With the scars no longer present, the last piece of herself from before the amnesia is gone unless she can remember.

Unlike the abyss, the blonde young vampire embraces the darkness and the pain. It was pain that led to her strength, from Damon, from her turning. She now needs the power to move forward from the dark anguish of her rape. It will only prove to her that she is no longer the weak, shallow, attention-seeking person she had been, it will remind her forever of what she has overcome and what awaits in the dark corners and crevasses of the world outside. That is what gives her hope now, not Bonnie recovering, not forgetting the horrors of life, but moving past them and finding her own salvation. Mind made up, Caroline runs to the Boarding House, Damon could use a companion on this new trip he’s got planned, she reckons. Giggling at the use of the word – _I've been spending too much time with Klaus_ – she reaches the door.

"Damon! I'm coming with and you can suck it if you don't approve!" she yells, her index finger digging into his chest, his very warm, very naked chest at that.

To her relief, she doesn't redden, she's seen far more of him before, but she does scowl and throw him his shirt. He laughs and nods.

"Sure thing, Blondie, glad to see you're back. Be here tomorrow at noon." he says and she grins sheepishly. She skips – _skips!–_ back home, hugging Liz, packing her bags and kissing Klaus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally next chapter the actual action begins. Hope you've enjoyed this one


	9. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...

 

 

 

 

The next day begins differently than any previous ones. Outside is cold, almost to the point of freezing, the wind harsh and unruly, storming into her house through the open window, and there is no sun to be seen, clouds turning the sky ash-gray and depressing. A bad sign? A new beginning? Just January at its best? All of them maybe. She isn't sure, but she cares not about its meaning. It is a change and changes are always good in her mind.

“Uhm!” she moans and stretches out on the bed, arching off her back slightly like a cat would, and smiling. She's always loved the cold, or, better said, she's always loved snuggling into her comforter and falling back asleep when it was cold. A gust of wind reaches her bare arms and she shivers, the smile on her face expanding.  _God, it feels soo gooood!_ She thinks to herself. She buries deeper into the warmth of the material and turns on her side, one arm reaching out only to stumble across another body besides her own. Her fingers trace the rather heated abdomen of the man next to her as she wiggles closer to him, her belly to his side. She hides her face in the crook of his neck and inhales his scent.

“Morning, sweetheart.” she hears him say in a gruff, muffled voice against the top of her blond curls. Grinning once more, she lifts herself on her elbows and looks up to him. He reciprocates the gesture and kisses her nose before letting his head connect with the pillow again, his eyes falling shut. She nuzzles his jaw, trailing her lips over his skin, kissing and nipping occasionally. Just as she's about to reach his lips though, the alarm goes off and she groans, her head falling in resignation against his chest. It rumbles with silent – or not so silent – laughter and she mock-hits it, pouting.

“Time for your road trip.” he exclaims and she wants to glare so badly, but then his lips are on her own and his tongue is tracing her lower one, begging for access and she gives in, kissing him fully and unrestricted. She melts despite the cool air and freezing atmosphere, engulfed into his warmth and safety.

She pulls away, dejected, and leaps over him, balanced only on her palms, stopping to look down at him for mere seconds and before long her feet are touching the ground. She is rushing towards the bathroom, clothes in hand, giggling, not a second later. She tries her best not to dawdle on the sleepiness while inside the shower, hot, almost scalding water rushing over her freezing skin, only to step outside and make haste of her clothes before she once again turns into a Caroline-shaped icicle. She brushes her teeth in record time, washes her face even faster emerging every bit the beautiful woman she's known to be. If only the gruffness on her face would disappear and reflect her outer appearance.

“I see you are all ready, sweetheart.” she hears Klaus, his voice light, but the worry threatening to spill over is present nonetheless. She lets the expression of her face morph into a seriousness never before seen on her as she steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso, her chin resting on his shoulder as she stands on her tiptoes. She feels him mimic the gesture and sigh into the wet tresses of her golden hair. She tightens her hold on him and kisses his jaw. “I'll be alright” she whispers and then she takes hold of her bag and leaves. He remains standing inside her now empty room, wondering if he'd made the right choice in letting her go. It isn't until he's in the shower that he nods to himself and realizes she doesn't need protection any more, she's strong enough now to face whatever awaits her beyond the memories.

* * *

 The car almost glided across the road, the wind hitting their faces at great speed and it was harsh, unforgiving. Caroline's blond hair is slashing her cheeks and neck, whipping at her face, but she is intent on ignoring the mild pain as her excitement overrides the fear of unknown and she grins. The winter is only just beginning so the cold buries itself into her bones as she snuggles into Damon, gripping his free arm, nuzzling some warmth into her cheek. She can’t help but realize she is once more acting like a cat, she giggles. If he's annoyed by this, there is no sign though. She's still pale though, worse then she has ever been, the wind and lack of blood causing her to turn white as a sheet.

Damon focuses on the road, stoic and quiet. He only presses harder on the acceleration pedal, driving like a madman one could say. She doesn't mind. This new lead could be the best yet and she can't blame him for wanting to get there right now if possible. She understands and even shares his feelings, but for another outcome. While he's in it for Bonnie, she wants to help herself. It's beyond selfish, that much she knows, but she can't face her best friend without her mind complete and that can't happen until she can remember what's happened since the rape up until she recovered. She needs the truth more than ever before.

Unconsciously, she catches herself scratching at where the scars were, with a vigour she's never witnessed in anybody. She has to will herself to stop because as second after second goes by she just continues until she can see beads of blood breaking through her jeans. Cursing herself and hoping against any hope that he doesn't see it –or smell it, since he _is_ a vampire -, Caroline moves further into Damon.

“When do we get there?” she asks, thankful that her voice is not trembling. He takes his eyes off of the road to evaluate her as if he's forgotten who and why she was here. Maybe she'd been right before, maybe he did care for Bonnie more than either thought was possible. A blink and she recognizes the information dawn on his mind and he grunts, snapping his eyes back towards the road.

“About half an hour.” he says and she can hear clearly the hard, throaty edge to the words.  _What's the matter with him? What had he been thinking of?_  She shrugs, blaming it on the cold and closes her eyes to stop the sting of the wind from hitting them. They arrive faster than predicted, the sun still not set when they enter the town though there is something odd. Not one person is outside. It isn’t that cold that they had to stick inside the house until it gets warmer, it isn't like they look threatening; they probably look pathetic even, what with her clinging to Damon's side and him trembling with ever step. The adrenalin seems to have gone by now and Damon appears to have realized that rushing like that froze him stiff, well and thorough.

“Damon, something's not right here.” she whispers. She feels him nod, but he says nothing. They have to be careful with anything they say, do or even hear. This town looks like a ghost and neither of them likes it. It doesn't feel safe.

Walking down the main road, they pass a house, small, covered in snow, and dark, and a shiver moves up her spine, freezing her heart in fear.  _What the hell was that?!_ She wonders and makes note to tell Damon later, when they're warm and relatively safe. They reach a motel and are glad to see that people do exist here. They are greeted by an old man, smiling sweetly and cracking jokes, that gives them a room for as long they may need it and let's them rest. Smiling gratefully, Caroline turns to thank him, but he's already gone. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she turns and closes the door behind her, willing Damon to shower faster, she's cold too!


	10. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot is under way. Enjoy!

 

Damon and Caroline didn't leave their room until dinner time. They'd even slept a couple of hours after a healthy lunch of blood bags heated at their personal microwave. It had been a very good idea asking the old man for a room with its own appliance. Now, rested, fed and, more importantly, warm again, the two descend the stairs in hopes of joining the evening meal. Caroline had opted for a long dress, thick enough to keep the cold out, but airy enough to feel natural. Damon had instead chosen his usual black jeans, a dark green blouse with a serpent coiled around the shoulder blades, and his signature leather jacket. Inside the restaurant, the hustle of human life was heart-warming and beyond comforting. Maybe it had been the cold making this town creepy, may be it had been their imagi–

No! It hadn't been the cold or their imagination. The moment they'd stepped inside, all activity stopped suddenly and abruptly. People's heads turned to scrutinize the new comers, some glaring, some indifferent, others intrigued, but all fearful beneath it all. The only one apparently unaffected was the old man – Mark Trotter – who greeted them with the same smile and friendly remarks. However the moment he had arrived, the other guests had shifted their view and resumed their meals as if nothing had ever happened. Damon’s bad feeling worsened.

Old man Trotter smiled, his eyes twinkling making Damon remember a character in a book series he'd read not long ago. He'd never trusted the old wizard in it as he can't help being suspicious of their host. He turns to Caroline and watches as she laughs and jokes with him, appearing not to have noticed the eerie reaction all around. Either that, or she's a far better actress than he ever gave credit – which might actually be true, considering her choice in college classes, drama club and all that. Is she only manipulating the situation to their advantage? Is she fooled by the kind act? He can't figure out, regardless, they need to eat and there is a table for two just a couple feet away. He touches her shoulder, almost blinded by the megawatt smile she always seems to have plastered on, nodding toward it. She agrees and they order the night's special dish.

Taking a seat, they occupy the time by talking, something they'd been sorely lacking lately. Damon asks about her and Klaus, she asks about Liz and him, he mentions the amnesia, she reciprocates by wondering how he's coping with Katherine's death. A game of cat and mouse, never ending... until she breaches the most important and untouchable subject – Stefan. Damon recoils as if burned and chocks on the drink he'd been in the middle of swallowing, but answers nonetheless. She listens, attentive and without a sound as Stefan was her friend, her best friend, and hearing about him in a bad light hurts, but she knows better than to be naïve about people, she knows the truth. She can't blame him, it's not in her to truly hold a grudge, but he's not absolved of any crime either. They, him and Elena, couldn't have known what was happening, she realizes that, maybe Damon does too, maybe he doesn't, but the fact remains, they were needed. For once, they were both truly and irrevocably needed and that is where it had gone wrong, they'd left him behind.

"But he'd heard! Elena told him, if he hadn't anyway. The fact stands: They left me when I needed them most, they could care less about me! I was in the middle of getting cut in half for heaven's sake and they just rode off into the sunset with their judgmental and holier-than-thou attitude!" he raises his voice. Caroline closes her eyes, regretting not being able to remember everything about then, and a tear stains the tablecloth, her hand stretches out to take his, but she can't reach it in time, the food has arrived. Blinking several times to keep the rest of the tears at bay and keeping her head bowed as if drinking from her glass, she waits for the waitress to leave, before lifting her head to look Damon dead in the eyes. Blue meets ice-blue and she smiles. Smirking, he nods at her. It is a moment of absolute clarity between the two and immediately they realize they hadn't been talking lately because they'd forgotten how they are together, the rape had changed things and her recovery had also, but now they remember. They never talked much, they didn't need it half the time because, since Stefan left, since she'd found Damon there and saved him, they've gotten closer than anyone else, they can understand one another without words, with only a look or a smile or a gesture. That's who and how they are.

* * *

 

The diner is filled with noise, buzzing all around, the snow storm roaring outside, the happy voices loud inside. Caroline is sipping her glass of wine, waiting for the dessert; Damon has gone to the bathroom, probably to munch on the pretty redheaded waitress serving the table next to theirs. She loses focus for a second and sighs, eyes opening wide, head falling back until she's staring at the ceiling, drowning out the hustle around herself. It's quiet, the smell of fried chicken and strawberries whiff past her as she breathes in. She feels warm, her skin flushed and her mood uplifting, she blinks.

She gasps. She is trying to get air into her lungs, panting and sweating, she struggles with it. Her eyes open, the diner is still there, unchanged, Damon still hasn't returned – how could he, it's only been seconds – but she still finds it hard to calm down, hard to steady her breath. She lets her eyes shift from one person to the other, frantic, fast – impossibly fast – hoping for a sign that she hadn't imagined it. She couldn't have made up the knife whirring toward her, nor the laughter surrounding, _engulfing_ , her. Bewildered, she sweeps every wall, every table, every inch of the bar, every chair, but not one thing is out of place, nothing is wrong, yet her mind is saying the opposite,  _why_?! She was never one for visions – that was Bonnie – or for surprise attacks out of nowhere – Elena took care of that position usually.

The dragging of a chair, wood scraping wood, breaks her concentration, her hand griping the handle of the knife and her eyes are met with confused gray. Damon has returned. He stops her hand from reaching its mark, his chest, and shakes his head. He feels it too, she tells herself and it's true, he does, but that is not here nor there. They aren't safe; there are many things that seem wrong and dangerous. Maybe it is only paranoia, God knows they both have enough reasons for it, maybe it isn't. They aren't willing to risk it yet. They stay silent and aware.

A shaky smile, a flicker of her eyes in fear, a sip of wine. She's alright.  _No need to get alarmed over nothing anyways. You just blinked, there was no knife, the old man hasn't moved from his corner near the band._ The dessert arrives, the young woman serving bats her lashes at Damon, Caroline frowns. The gesture seemed forced, too false for it to have been genuine. He lifts an eyebrow, eyes piercing and dark, a smirk gracing pink lips. Caroline smiles bemused into her drink. He's playing along, but he's enjoying it too. The best type of work.

* * *

 

Klaus sat at Bonnie Bennett's bedside, staring off into nothing, his eyes unfocused and his body rigid, unmoving. He'd stopped breathing; he'd forgotten to do it. Itching, his eyes blink of their own accord. Caroline! There is something wrong with her! He knows it because the young witch next to him cried it out just seconds ago. His leg is moving, up and down on the toes of his foot, fast and unconsciously. He is restless.

The witch had, beside gotten him worked up when she screamed "Caroline", also stopped breathing for about half a minute. Nothing some vampire blood couldn't heal. Nonetheless, the two occurrences were obviously connected. She's stable now as he watches over her, though he can't seem to be able to move from his spot on the chair near her bed no matter how much he tries. A headache is slowly creeping its way from the blasted rings and alarms inside the hospital, the nurses running around like chickens without their heads. Smiling darkly at the mental picture of one particular annoying nurse headless and running away in fear, he almost doesn't feel his phone vibrating inside his jacket pocket.

"Yes." short, snide and between gritted teeth came the answer. Were it anyone else, they would've apologized and hung up, but his sister just chuckled and replied.

"Hello to you too, Nic." he takes a deep breath, whatever she's calling about has something to do with their mother so he needs his head clear, or perhaps she's found out about Katerina's killer, in which case he needs to be even more controlled.

"What is it, little sister?"

"You might not like it, Nic, but I think mother dearest had her hands buried deep in this Katherine situation. Finn said she had a fondness for rituals and what happened to the doppelgänger is very much a ritual, I would know, I've found the spell used for it. Apparently she tried creating a human strong enough to kill us, but without him being immortal. Elijah knew about it too, but he'd thought it had failed, Kol is worried he's wrong. Nic, I think I'm afraid of our mother after finding this, not that I thought of her as sweet and fluffy before. When will you return? Has your blond cheerleader caved in finally, or not?" He would have usually gotten mad at her for the obvious disregard toward Caroline, but her voice shook through the phone and he could practically taste the tears running down her face. And, if what she was saying was true, then it meant Caroline's rape was also connected to his mother which could only anger him further.

"Bekah, it'll be a while longer, but worry not, I will return before you know it. Perhaps a month or two." She sighs and whispers a "goodbye Nic" that seems small, defeated, and hangs up. He throws the cell onto Bonnie's bed, watching as it lands near her hand, and gathers his head into his hands, his body bending, and his eyes closed shut tightly. Why did his family keep hurting him so?


	11. Nightmare or memory?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline's memories are slowly returning, Damon finds out about Bonnie, and Trotter is clearly connected in some way to all of it.

 

 

Once inside their room, Damon couldn't stop himself from asking her what had her so frightened throughout the meal, he had been able to ignore it enough as it was, yet even now, in the safety of their private room and in his presence, Caroline kept shaking and jumping at every little noise, the question was why. He had to watch as she startled at the sound of a car starting up and how her hands shook in her lap.

“Blondie?! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you forgotten to pack your hair-straightener?” but his attempt at comedy flies past her with little to no effect so that it’s almost saddening. He sighs, sits on the bed besides her and takes hold of her hand. The reaction she give off though, it is almost as if all the healing and the miraculous comeback to the land of the sane was just a fluke. Caroline pulls her hand away from his so fast he wonders if she’s pulled a muscle or twisted a bone or two. _What’s going on here?_

“Sorry, Damon, I… I just…” she says nothing more, her eyes unfocused and glazed, her voice fading and her body going lax. He breathes in once, hard and long, holds it in a few seconds with his eyes closed, then he lets it out in one go. He relaxes then, knowing that she’s remembering something important and that no matter what he may be doing there’s no snapping her out of it. He still can’t believe she is willing to give their friendship a chance seeing as she still doesn’t remember most of what cause them to become that close in the first place.

 He searches inside his jeans pocket for the phone, skimming down the contacts, stopping momentarily at his brother’s name, glaring and scowling, then further away to Liz’s number. He should really change it from ‘The sheriff’ to ‘Liz’, but he just hasn’t had the time yet. He hazards a look at Caroline before he dials.

“Yes? Damon? What are you doing calling at this hour?! Is something wrong?” he contemplates telling her the truth, but he’d rather not deal with an emotional woman this late at night so he says ‘no, I just want to talk’ to her.

“About?” her voice is full of irritation and exhaustion and he wonders just what has she been up to today.

“Bonnie. How is our resident comatose Sabrina?” his own voice gives off a nasty tone, but they know each other well enough to know it’s just for show. He secretly cares about Bonnie and he’s worried. This train of thought stuns Liz a little as she questions again how many people does she actually mother, realizing not for the first time that she thinks of them all like that, even him, who’s God knows how much older than her. Though they really are much like overgrown kids sometimes.

“She’s… not good, Damon. She almost died today. Neither the doctor nor Klaus, who was with her, know what happened. She just stopped breathing, her heart giving out soon after. Klaus mentioned her yelling Care’s name just before that, but we haven’t found the connection yet. It’s been a bit terrifying really. How are you? Any luck with those witches? Found them already?” her voice trembles and he hears the tears slowly sliding down her cheeks and Damon can only imagine how hard it must be to be in her shoes now. Ever since Abby, Bonnie’s mother, left the girl Liz has been closer to the young witch, adding the fact that she’s her own daughter’s best friend, well Liz was never too far away from Bonnie.

“Not yet, we’re going sightseeing tomorrow. Did she … uhm, was this somewhere around 9 tonight, by any chance?” Damon tries, but there is still a little underlying curiosity and perplex beneath, so the sheriff becomes suspicious. Something did happen tonight, then.

“Yes. Damon, why are you asking this? How did you know?”

“I didn’t know, I was just … guessing. Glad I got it right though. And Klaus was there when this happened? Why was he there anyways?” sneaking a look at the blonde on the bed, Damon sees she’s finally gotten over whatever she’d been revisiting. He gives her a smile, to reassure her everything is fine, and returns to his conversation to her mother. He ignores the frown on Caroline’s face as she can hear the conversation perfectly.

“If you’re sure. And yes, he was because I asked him to. Damon, I’m going to hang up now, I’m tired enough as it is. Talk more later.” And just like that she hangs up. He throws the phone on the bed, fixes his eyes upon Caroline, who’s looking up at him as if she’s seconds away from tearing him apart with her mind unless he tells her what he’s been talking about, and he sits down on his own bed.

“Well, Judgy is not so good. She had a creepy near death experience that I think is related to whatever went on downstairs at dinner earlier. Maybe she had a vision about it, or things like that since she screamed out your name, unless you two have been a lot closer than anyone thought. If it’s the latter, then, by all means, details.” She makes a disgusted face when she finally understands what he means, gives him the finger and mimes throwing up a bit for more drama, before she sobers up and fixes him with a stare that shakes him to his core. Whatever she saw, whatever happened, it was bad and intense.

“Tell me.” And she does.

* * *

 

That night, as they lay in their beds, Damon can’t find sleep. He turns his head to the right, gazing at the blonde, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, hearing the soft noises she makes while sleeping and he is jealous. The story had been simple enough, yet terrifying, despite it lasting mere seconds. From what he’d got, she was waiting for him to return. When she blinked she found herself stabbed by three knifes laced with vervain, then she was being hoisted up from her chair by Trotter. That’s when the story got blurry. She said she remembers screaming, from her or not, she doesn’t know, intelligible and impossibly loud, then the scent of blood spilling onto the floor, that she knows was hers, then … nothing. He was confused and not so disturbed when she had finished, but then she just had to mention what she saw when he was talking with Liz.

The scene she described was simple enough as well, for a while. It was of Trotter again, the bastard, chanting in a clearing, in Autumn if she were to be specific, at his feet was drawn in black colour a hexagram, surrounded by a circle. Inside each tip of the six-pointed star, a rune –or at least what she thought was runes- that glowed bright as he said the foreign words at a fast pace. When he finished, he let out an anguished yell towards the sky, falling to his knees and ripping his shirt open. She said she watched as the skin on his back rippled and exploded open, blood spilling on the ground and then high-lighting the hexagram. She saw his spinal cord bowing and breaking, mutating, and she saw his face melting away into something else. She knew not what his final form was, yet she did recognize the claws that his hands attained, but she wasn’t sure from where. She also mentioned that the places where her scars had been were itching and hurting by the end of this… whatever it was.

Damon isn’t sure if his own imagination is overactive or if her describing skills are at fault, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t shake the scene from his mind, his eyes close and he sees it, as real as he sees her now sleeping. He regrets asking, yet he’s grateful for the trust she showed. He eventually falls asleep.

* * *

 

The next morning they are both up early. Neither goes to eat breakfast in the diner, decided to drink a blood bog instead and head out. They vamp-speed to the edge of the village, talking to the locals wouldn’t have worked any way considering their attitude last night, and start searching for signs, any at all, about the weird town. The snow makes it difficult to really see anything on the ground yet they manage just fine for the first few hours. It’s 1 pm when the trail of clues they’ve found vanishes and they are left alone in a white, desolate field, the harsh cold wind in their backs and the never-ending snow up front. A headache crawls and settles over Caroline, loud, pounding and overwhelming, nothing like she ever felt before and she clutches her head in pain. She barely feels Damon hold her up, when a shriek, clear and piercing, stabs her through the headache. She doubles over, falling into soft snow.

Worried Damon kneels next to her, holding out his hand to shake her out of it. He doesn’t get the chance though, not when her eyes snap open, vibrant green focused ahead and she begins crawling through the snow. He follows, silent and with half a mind wondering if she’s gone mad, when he receives the answer. A circle of black snow. As black as coal and as soft as any other snow he’s come across.

“What the fuck?!” Caroline is up and stumbling on her feet as he mutters this. One look at her face and he knows that she is as clueless as he right now.


	12. Mark Trotter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man that raped Caroline and killed Katherine is finally revealed. But is he a man?

“Blondie, please tell me this is just my imagination because I haven’t slept enough last night.” Damon is close to begging, he realizes, even as he bends down to start digging into the odd coloured snow, black flakes melting on his fingertips. His eyes water as the wind changes directions, his hands hurt from the cold and he curses his luck. Can’t they ever do a normal road trip? The question itself is dumb, but fitting enough to be worth saying.

“Going to help? I’m doing all the –“ he is cut short when he reaches ground - dank, dark ground - that holds the drawing of a ... well, a part of a star with a rounded line above. He can see about two corners and the start of the third, the line connecting the dots. He hears Caroline gasping and with the corner of his eyes, he watches as her hands fly to cover her mouth to stifle her yelp. Her hoodie also flies off her head, letting wild blonde hair blow freely in the harsh wind. He recovers from his shock fast enough to dig quicker and in a few minutes he is done while she is still kneeling there, unmoving. He’s getting worried.

Caroline swallows, blinks a handful of times which only causes a few stray tears to run down her cheeks and then she comes back to her senses. She is assaulted by the black coloured hexagram on the hard, cold earth, looking every bit like the one in her vision, even with the snow surrounding it. She leans ahead slowly, her hand outstretched, fingers straining to touch the circle. Damon acts on reflex, lurching forward to stop her, but he’s too slow for once. _Just one finger, that’s all it takes._ The moment her flesh makes contact with the black line a scream is torn out of her and the hexagram flashes, a light so bright Damon is momentarily stunned. Caroline falls.

“Blondie …” he says when he stops seeing multicoloured spots, but there isn’t an answer and he gets concerned. “Blondie!” he screams, lifting his head and scanning the plain. He sees her, buried in the white snow. Her blonde hair is spread around her, tresses buried in snow, her head turned on the side, legs sprawled out long, unconscious.

“Oh, fuck! Blondie! Caroline! Care! Wake up!” he yells, his voice near hysterical as he shakes her body, back and forth, back and forth with no result. She’s limp in his arms. He’s even tried calling her “Care”, a nickname she hates hearing from him because it’s what Bonnie used to call her and since finding out about the coma and _how_ Bonnie ended up like that, she couldn’t stand the name. She would have answered, he ponders, were she alright.

* * *

 

_I stood up, my eyes hurting, burning, and my limbs heavy. I tried to open them, but they hurt too much and as I lifted a hand I felt as though it weighted a ton – something that hasn't happened since I was human. I breathed in, slowly to calm myself. Panicking would only do more harm in these situations. With my eyes closed I tried to remember where I was, what I had been doing before waking up here. There are five long, excruciating minutes of complete and utter blankness, then I recall walking home, my fight with Tyler and our breaking up. I was … close and then … nothing._

_Nothing? How can I remember nothing between then and now? How long ago has it even been? Not long from what my body tells me, but a few hours at least. My hunger is getting worse and I’d drunk a blood bag before leaving home._

_A prickling sensation brings me out of my musings and my body feels heated. I can sense my blood as it moves through my veins and it hurts, it_ scorches _and I let out a moan of pain. The odd feeling amplifies, accompanied by a harsh urge to open my eyes. It’s as if there is a phantom hand pulling at my eyelids, forcefully opening them. I let it. It is in seconds that I realize I shouldn’t have. I am greeted by the sight of two maybe three vampires, their eyes dark surrounded by blue veins and their fangs ready to sink into flesh. They are old; I can feel it as I can sense their power even before they get near. Older than Katherine. Fear, unlike any I had experienced before – and I’d had many opportunities for it – grips my insides and twists and twists until I can almost feel a hand on the inside._

_My mind, against my own volition, or maybe because of it, calls for Klaus, screams and yearns for him, wishes he were here to save me, but he’s gone, long gone. He and his siblings left in search for their mother. While my conscious is filled with thoughts of the Original family, the vampires have gotten closer. One hand touches my shoulder, another grips my legs tightly and I am lifted from the ground and moved further inside the forest near my house. I try to scream, but my throat is constricted and I can’t make a sound. They drop me unceremoniously onto the brown warm ground. They leave. I look down at my outfit and notice my top hand ridden up. I curse them for this, ruining_ my favourite top! , _but I have very little to no time to do so, as from behind the trees I see two guys. I try yelling at them to help me, but my voice still doesn’t work. They get closer and stop just before me. My eyes plead with them to get me out of here, to save me, but as I gaze into theirs, all I see is emptiness. I shudder. Something isn’t right, they are being controlled by someone, I think to myself._

“ _Ah, wonderful, she has arrived. My mistress has said that_ she _is the heart of him. Let us break his heart.” A voice comes from behind me. It is that of an elderly man, but deeper and distorted. It is unnatural and makes another shiver travel up my spine. I hear his footsteps as they approach and I struggle to move, but I can’t._

“ _You are unable to move” he tells me as he stops in front of me. The thought of "No shit, Sherlock" is there, although unuttered. He sizes up my appearance, his eyes darkening and filling with hunger. The look is repulsive. “so don’t try. You!” he calls out to the men. They walk forward and, before I know what is happening, their hands are on my body and I am filled with an unimaginable amount of pain. It feels as if the mere touch of them is fire on my body, as if they are rays of sunshine and I have lost my ring. He laughs when I scream, and they rip my top off. I only raise my voice, hoping someone, anyone hears me. As one of them slides down my body, sitting on my legs and pulling my pants down, I let the tears run. This can’t be happening to me. Why am I-_

_As they start throwing punches and kicks, I let my mind wonder, but every hit hurts that much more, is that much sharper and I can’t stop the whimpers even as I try to detach myself from the situation. I struggle to think. He had said mistress, who was that? I chock as my thoughts run from me as the old man tells the men to move aside. Then, he stands over me, looking down and his eyes change. They turn bright white, horrifyingly so, and he buckles forward. His clothes snap and tear and his spine rises and curves. I watch in stunned fear, and slowly healing wounds, as he transforms into a creature unlike any I had ever seen. When he is finished, I can’t speak even if I were to be able to. He rips away the last pieces of fabric from me and I am vaguely aware of how much blood covers me. I bathe in it. His claws dig into my ribcage and pull and pull down, ripping me open. I can only scream harder and sob when his weight settles on the wounded flesh. I know what comes next and I’m not sure I am able to survive it. I am awake._

* * *

 

Damon lays Caroline on the bed just as the door opens and inside comes Old Man Trotter with his dark eyes and fake smiles. The vampire tenses, his guard up, but turns to the man with a worried and hopeful look. He hopes he buys it. Frowning, Damon hears the door click as the lock is turned. He drops the mask and glares.

“It would seem you have found my mistress’s gift to me. Has your friend fallen ill?” The smile widens and his eyes darken and the brunet vampire is suddenly aware of the odd power emanating from the man. _Is he even a man?_ And he steps back. Trotter remains as he is, smiling and waiting, before a roar bursts from his mouth and his back bends at an awkward angle. Damon lets his fangs elongate and launches forward. He wants to throw a punch, but Trotter, or whatever the hell he is, moves his hand and slices Damon right across his chest. There are long sharp claws where normal nails used to be, the vampire yells in pain but aims a kick that actually hits. The creature that used to be Mark Trotter is sent back reeling as the brunet rushes to take Caroline in his arms so they can escape. He feels something grip his ankle and he is dragged back. He looks and sees it’s a tongue. Disgust fills him and he kicks at the appendage desperately. He runs, lifts the blonde up and gathers her in his arms.

Caroline’s eyes snap open. They focus and she recognizes the creature ready to tear into Damon’s back and despite her fear, despite the memories now swarming in her mind, she jumps out of the man’s arms and pushes with all her might. The creature stumbles backwards, its tongue licking Damon’s cheek suddenly, and the vampire grabs her wrist, pulling her along, ignoring the repulsive action that had just occurred.

“Jump!” he screams and she does as told. They rush to his car, open the doors so hard she wonders how they didn’t just take them out of their hinges and then Damon has his foot on the acceleration and off they go, not once looking back. She is still breathing harshly when they are miles away and still trembles when they enter the state of Virginia. The ride home is unnaturally quiet, but she is coming to terms with her own memories and Damon is regaining his breath from the surreal fight. They reach Mystic Falls soon enough, even though it is already nightfall. Parking in front of the Forbes residence, Damon and Caroline wobble out of the car, relying on each other as they walk. The man’s right leg is twisted from when Trotter pulled him by the ankle and she is just unsteady and dizzy. His shirt is still bloody and he feels the cuts aching.

They open the door, both lost in their own thoughts that they barely, if even, hear the conversation in the living room. They stop, mouths hanging open and bodies stiff, when they reach the door way. Inside, sitting on the couch next to Liz and opposite Klaus who is on his usual armchair, is Bonnie Bennett. Awake, alive, unharmed and talking. Smiling even.

“Care!” the mocha skinned young woman almost shrieks in delight as she lunges herself into the stunned blondes’ arms, laughing. Caroline recovers soon and hugs back, tears of pure joy on her face. Damon just stares and swears his heart is beating double time, even if it has for a long, long time been silent. Bonnie is out of her coma, finally. _How_?


	13. All is right, or is it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon and Caroline return home. Bonnie tells Caroline how she was healed.

 

 

“Care!” the sound of her best friend’s voice after so long felt like heaven for Caroline and she could barely notice the tears that started gathering in her eyes. She didn’t care about anything else anymore, not while Bonnie was here and alive and awake. She is still for few seconds, Bonnie’s arms around her tightly and the small sobs in her ear distracting, but then she is hugging back just as hard, with just as much joy and relief. She ignores the knot forming in her throat, the guilt gnawing at her insides for those few, precious moments. She lets the past and heartache behind, and just stays there, embracing her best friend. It is wondrous and unreal almost, but knowing it was true feels better than she ever thought possible.

“Darling, I do believe you should let her breathe, she just escaped a near-death experience, no need for another.” She heard Klaus quip, but resolutely ignored that as well, despite the loosening of her arms and the hesitant, reluctant separation from the caramel skinned witch. She only turned and mock glared at her… _boyfriend? Not quite right… lover maybe…_ Before she turned back to face Bonnie.

“Sorry.” She whispered, voice light and watery, and the two laughed. It tended to happen a lot, this situation. Bonnie retook her seat on the couch, motioning for the blonde to join the reunion, but the good mood was slightly disturbed as the front door slammed shut suddenly. Damon just left. Liz couldn’t stop the little sliver of worry that murmurs that she should check on him. She should know why he is like this and help, after all, were they not friends? She isn’t sure if she ought to heed it or not so she opts instead to spend some time with her daughter, the feeling diminishing soon enough as the girls converse animatedly, but not disappearing completely. He was acting weird; it wasn’t like him to just run off, not really.

Her attention is caught by a sudden movement though, before she can truly finish the thought, before reaching a conclusion. Klaus had gotten up, sped across the room and in five seconds flat he had his arms around her daughter’s waist, her hands were in his hair and they were kissing as if the world had ended and they were the only survivors left to repopulate the planet – a truly horrible mental picture that one was. Liz wasn’t sure how that had happened, she hadn’t noticed them eyeing one another, and she hadn’t picked up on any desperation to get together nor any silent conversation between the two since Caroline and Damon had gotten back. Maybe she had been too distracted by things, she wasn’t sure, but she knew as a fact that she could do _very_ well without seeing this make out session.

Liz spared a glance Bonnie’s way and saw that she too was uncomfortable with the current state of things and so she cleared her throat, once, twice, trice and nothing happened. She got up unexpectedly and still, no notice, she started to call their names, but they were lost to their own little world that when she glimpsed his hand slide underneath her daughter’s shirt and when she heard the decisive whine from Care, she had had enough. It was getting ridiculous! She turned to Bonnie again, and was surprise to see that, despite the awkwardness, there was no hate toward Klaus, no resentment for Caroline. But that could be brought up later, much like she could catch up with Damon later – _which she most definitely will –_ because right now she needed the witch’s help.

_Please, separate them!_ Her eyes pleaded with the hazel-green orbs the Bennett had. She had gotten the message, for not long after Caroline was standing with her lips puckered alone, Klaus having been flung across the room and onto the armchair. The sight was hilarious enough so the witch burst out laughing. Liz shook her head fondly at the scene and left for the kitchen. It was getting crazy in there. Too many teenagers around her were bad for her mental health, she decided. That was the reason she hung out with Damon, because despite his youthful appearance, he was old, ancient even… maybe not quite like Klaus, but old enough to be considered wise – something he did not show, despite it existing.

When she finally gets back inside, a plate of various appetizers in her hands, mostly for Bonnie, she is pleased to see that Klaus and the girl are conversing amicably while Caroline’s gone off to change most likely. She sets the food onto the table, reaching out for a pastry to bite into as she listens patiently, contently. She is glad the witch isn’t judging nor does she seem to hold any grudges against Klaus. Liz isn’t sure what Care would have done were she made to choose.

* * *

 

Bonnie watched her best friend and her former enemy cuddle on the couch with a sort of morbid fascination, unable to tear her eyes off of the couple. She was also aware that Ms. Forbes was right there, also gazing at the blunt show of affection and how odd and awkward it must be for her since she herself was so out of her depth as the memory of waking up flashed in front of her.

* * *

 

The hospital was quiet, the silence stretching on for miles it seemed and for once, Niklaus Mikaelson was longing for the loud, boisterous noise that went with hospitals during the daytime. This unnatural stillness was deafening and disconcerting in a way that chilled his heart and froze the blood in his veins. Something was about to occur and he wasn’t sure if it was a good or a very, _very_ bad thing.

The only sound came from the continuously beeping machines in charge of keeping the Bennett witch alive, her heart beating and her chest rising and falling in sync. She was pale now, paler than he has ever seen her, even worse than that night when he had to rush her to the hospital after Caroline slammed her against the wall and cracked her skull open. _And she had looked white as a sheet_. He didn’t understand what could have caused this sudden and horrifying change in the little witch. She had appeared to be improving, from her gasping out Caroline’s name a day prior to the almost spastic clenching and unclenching of her muscles. Consciousness was supposed to be slowly returning to her, and then she had gotten exponentially worse as if she was being drained of power… Drained… _Drained … could that be the answer? Could the witch be channelled in such a way that would render her useless?_

“Bekah” he said in way of greeting as the dialling tone ended. He heard her sigh and almost smiled at the exasperated tone of her voice, it was nearly like how she had been before becoming a vampire, the same annoyance when she knew he wanted something from her. But he stopped himself, now was not the time. “I am in need of a witch.” He continued, his tone serious, leaving no room for argument.

“Nik, maybe it has escaped your notice or perhaps you are becoming senile in your old age, but neither me nor Finn have our powers anymore, and we have not had them for quite a while now.” He was so close to yelling at her to cease the idiocy and just do as he said when he realized something was wrong there as well.

“What is it, sister? And do not try to lie to me. I know you better than to fall for that.”

“One of mother’s grimoires burst into flames just now and Kol, who was holding it, saw a vision of Caroline stepping into a hexagram. Nik, hexagrams are dangerous! You know this as well as I do, where is your girl? Tell me that hasn’t happened. I am not sure what the spell is, but I am - that is Elijah actually doing the work while I talk to you - researching it now, but it doesn’t look good at all. Mother was performing some extremely dark magic. I don’t like this, Nik.” She realized her voice must be shaking, but right now she could care less about that, she had been a witch, maybe not for long and maybe a long time ago, but she remembered well enough what this spoke of and it was nothing good. This spoke of blood Magicks and human transfiguration. This was a side of magic her mother had warned them against and now she was delving into it herself, why? What did she hope to achieve? But Rebekah knew the answer to that question, a way to be rid of them. Her heart clenched hard at the thought, but she pushed the ache back down. Nik needed help.

“What do you need from the witch?”

“A way to stop someone from channelling another witch.” She frowned at the words. He hadn’t said a witch channelling another witch, but _someone_. That was easy enough without the help of a full blown magic wielder.

“Okay, you don’t need one. I’ll walk you through this. Why do you need it?”

“Bonnie Bennett.” And with a nod they lurched into awakening the young woman. Two hours later and after a few frustrating arguments between the siblings, Bonnie was awoken. Her green eyes were blown wide and they seemed so much larger than normal, her mouth was opened into a mute scream and she was gasping for breath in a way that made her look like a fish out of water. Klaus could see the dryness of her lips and he could hear the shallow breaths she drew from how dehydrated she was. He gave her a glass of water.

Slowly, cautiously she drank a mouthful, then another. She took the glass from her mouth next and took another deep breath. She was shaking now, her body trembling so badly that the hospital bed was squeaking under the strain so Klaus did the one thing he could have done. He climbed in and drew her to his chest, holding on tightly and steadfastly. He felt her wet, cold tears sweep into his t-shirt and he heard the small whines that soon turned to sobs. He stroked her back, muttering reassuring words into her black, greasy hair and before long she was gently pushing his chest away so she could look up at him. The warm gaze filled with concern caught her off guard, but she found that now she understood why Caroline had sent that letter. Why Care-

“ _Caroline_ ” her voice was made of broken syllables and a raspy tone, but he had no problem comprehending her.

“She is fine. She’s back now.” He whispered and a syncopated laugh escaped her mouth. She was deliriously happy now, the chuckling quickly becoming maniacal and with a stroke of desperation and hysteria. Caroline was fine, all was right in the world again. At last.

* * *

 

It was slowly darkening when she and Care finished talking and she needed to head home. She had to sleep and then research the hexagram her friend spoke of. Speaking of, the actual thought of it made a certain ritual stand out in her mind; she had to get home _now_. _Home…_ could she really still call the house she used to share with her dad home? Klaus had told her that her dad had left Mystic Falls once it became clear to him that she wasn’t coming back, and she couldn’t blame him actually, but it hurt. Going to a house she had considered home only to find it empty, cold and suffocating, hurt. But she had to do it. _She had to._


	14. Bonnie Bennett I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damon gets drunk, Liz plays matchmaker and Bonnie just wants her life back.

Darkness submerged everything and the air grew still and cold. The silence stretched among the small town like plague, chocking all and taking no prisoners. Then … it broke. The small _tuck! tuck! tuck!_ filled the otherwise empty space with noise, the sound of heels hitting concrete unmistakable even to his ears. He raised his head, swaying lightly in the cool breeze as the amount of alcohol took its toll, head spinning and vision swarming. He breathed in through his nose next, letting the sweet aroma of life force lull him into his safest haven, the pull of the predator strong yet controlled. He wanted to taste it, the ambrosia rushing through _her_ veins, the delicacy he’d once managed to steal a taste of. He wanted the thick, warm blood bursting on his tongue and her heated skin, salty beneath his lips. He let his eyes darken, felt the tiny rise of the capillaries underneath his lower lashes and the familiar ache of his fangs growing. His gums burst alive and he had to bite down on his tongue hard to stop himself from drooling. _It was her!_

Another deep breath later, and several more mouthfuls of his own blood, and he was ready to face the bane of his existence, in all her caramel skinned, hazel-green eyed, petit and powerful, glory. He debated waiting for her in front of her childhood home, but then, what kind of creep did stuff like that? Maybe Stef Better not go there tonight, too drunk yet not drunk enough for that thought.

Damon stepped out of the shadows and directly in front of her as she rounded a corner. The undignified, frightened yelp she let out was music of the highest calibre and he was vaguely aware that he … that they were not _like_ that. They hated each other on their good days, didn’t they? They used to at least.

“Damn it, Damon! You scared the hell out of me!” she screamed in his face, so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating off of her, he could count every lash and see every spec of green in her hazel eyes. He was _really_ drunk, he decided then. He shouldn’t be here. But somehow his legs would not budge, his body statue-still in the cold night air. And she had gathered up her arms to her chest, crossing them over her breasts.

“Whatever you say, Judgy. Just tell me if you find a way to kill Trotter.” He managed to say out loud without any inappropriate thoughts showing through. A success! Now all he needed to do was get back home in one piece and, considering it is Mystic Falls, that may well be fast on becoming impossible. “Later, Willow!” he jokingly quips and then off he is, disappearing into the blackness and cold and once more letting the monster lead the way. He needs another drink. He turns towards the Grill.

Bonnie is left alone, feet away from her house, her empty, desolate house which she can’t bring herself to call home any more. She wonders briefly if it’s a mean thing to do, suddenly deciding her childhood home no longer fit the bill, that it wasn’t her safe haven, her playground and her favourite workplace all wrapped into one. Maybe it is, but the brunette doesn’t care one bit. Her father, the last family she had left, the main reason she had loved the house, had left and wasn’t planning on returning any time soon. She wasn’t an idiot, nor naïve, not anymore, she knew how the world worked and she realized, from the moment she’d heard that her dad wasn’t there, that she was well and truly alone now. Well, unless you count her friends, in which case… pretty nice family you’ve got there Bennett. She did. Count them in, that is. How could she not, when for the last two years almost they’ve been her rock and her shoulder to cry on, she had told them all her secrets and they in turn theirs, she trusted them like no other. Because there _was_ no other. Not any longer. The realization should have her crying in a ball on the floor, instead she just pats her jeans’ pockets in search for the key. It wasn’t as if her dad had ever been home much anyways. Sad thought, that.

She slips the key into the door, twist her wrist and with a soft popping sound she is pushing the door open and stepping inside. She closes it behind her, letting the darkness caress her, whisper to her. The house is, as she had guessed, cold and unwelcoming. It reeks of dust and staleness and she vaguely registers water dripping from the hole in the roof that she had promised her dad she would fix, but never got around to doing it before she, you know, went into a coma. She widens her eyes then squints, trying to make out anything in the black, but she can’t yet. She takes a chance, making her way to the nearest window so she could draw open the drapes, but she stops to let out yell of surprise when glass shatters beneath her feet. Damn Mrs. Wilkes’ children! _If I catch one of those brats throwing stuff at my window, they’ll gonna wish they’d never thought about it in the first place!_ She thinks, then she feels laughter bubble in her belly and she lets hysteria and fear and loneliness wash over her in the form of a long, tiring guffaw.

When finally the witch comes back to her senses her eyes have adjusted to the dark and she can easily find the kitchen door and the drawer she keeps her candles in. She takes a large one out, one of her favourite kinds, it smells sweet – like spring – and so she lights it up. There is light now, soft, flickering and yellow, but it is light and her eyes hurt slightly from looking directly at it mere seconds. It’ll pass, she muses; everything does eventually. And more importantly, it is warm, and spring-y and so unlike the frozen visage of the outside, all snow and ice and unyielding winds. She lets out a sigh at the wonderful feeling. She can’t remember the last time she felt this warm. Was it because of the cold outside, or the fact that she no longer slept?

Shrugging, she makes her way through the darkness, towards her room. She enters slowly, reluctantly, as if the room is suddenly out to get her seeing as she hasn’t been home in so long – which is a ridiculous idea, but not one she can just push aside – and then she is crouching, her knees protesting under the strain – a few month in bed would do that to you – and reaching beneath her bed, blindly searching for the grimoire as the candle sends lugubrious shadows dancing across her walls. When finally Bonnie’s fingers touch the hard cover, dust-filled and ancient, she lets out a smile and a soft sound resembling nothing she’d ever encountered before – a sort of mix between a screech and a giggle. Book in one hand, light source in the other, the witch returns to her living room, setting the candle on the coffee table and getting rid of the plastic sheet over her couch. At least her dad thought to do that before he left. She starts reading, knowing somehow what to look for even though she’d never even searched rituals before now.

* * *

 

Damon Salvatore is used to being in the Mystic Grill until long hours past midnight. It is a fact well-known to everyone that has every frequented the bar/diner. The manager was even letting him stay however long he wanted, having realized the futility of trying to throw him out. There was close to no one that could separate the older Salvatore sibling from his beloved alcohol, even more so since Stefan had left abruptly with his girlfriend of three years, Elena Gilbert.

What was odd, and also recently becoming a normal occurrence, was the person joining the man. Elisabeth Forbes was the town sheriff, a powerful, authoritative and incredibly _mature_ person be any peoples’ standards. She did not go into the Grill unless it was for an inspection or to arrest someone, or, maybe, if the mayor was planning to host yet another useless, but popular event of the town. That had changed somewhat when Caroline Forbes had been assaulted months prior to this day. The attack on the woman’s daughter had left a scar, deep and still bleeding.

Tonight was no exception and so the duo was yet again drowning their sorrows in the amber oblivion on the bottom of a glass of good scotch. Neither felt like they deserved to be here though, not tonight, not after the course of their lives getting back on track, but here they were still. Damon already drunk on his feet, his eyes glazed and his motions clumsy, his speech slurred. Liz was better off, she was just getting buzzed. Seeing this as an opportunity unlike any she’d ever encountered – and probably will ever find – to question him, the blonde turned to him suddenly, ignoring the dizzy spell she got from the movement.

“Damon, is this about Bonnie?” she asks, her tact all but gone by now, they were friends, weren’t they? She should be allowed questions like that, right?

His eyes flashed dark red for a few seconds, the tale-tell veins appearing under his eyes, but disappear almost as soon as they came and had Liz not been watching him already she would have thought it her imagination, but she had been so she knew better. A smile crept onto her face, brightening up her eyes.

“NO!” he exclaimed, affronted, defensive. “Why … why’d you thunk tha’?” he continued, his voice growing smaller as his confidence lessened, his eyes growing big. She was perplexed as she stared back into deep, murky depths of his blue – _so, so blue!_ – eyes. He looked vulnerable and scared, so much so that _she_ grew fearful. She’s never seen him like this, not even during his breakdown after Katherine’s death. He’d been heartbroken, but not … not _this!_

“Well, you left without saying hi. I know you and Bonnie have never been friends but you don’t hate her. And I am certain she does not hate _you_ so why did you leave?”

“She… she can’ stand meh. I didn’ need to buh set on fiah after what we’ve gone thru t’is trip.” He spoke though she struggled to make out most of his words. Sheriff or not, she wasn’t all knowing in matters of drunk people. Shaking her head in disbelief, she sighed and decided to tell him what she thought.

“That’s stupid, Damon. She wanted to see you. I saw how disappointed she was when you weren’t there anymore. She had wanted to see you too. I think she may like you a bit.” She said boldly, though as soon as the words flew out of her mouth she berated herself for the lack of any consideration. What if she was wrong? What if she _wasn’t?!_ Would Damon even remember this in the morning?  With a whispered curse, she turned to see what reaction she drew from the older – than he looked or _acted_ – man. She was close to weeping in relief when she saw him lightly snoring, his head propped up on his hand, a slight trickle of drool escaping the open corner of his mouth. With a fond smile, Liz nodded to the barman, paid the bill – less than she expected surprisingly – and with a little bit of help in the form of a half-asleep vampire, at least after she managed to shake him awake, they made their way to her police car.

Damon was fast asleep when they reached the boarding house, Liz herself being overcome by exhaustion so her only hope was that Klaus had opted to sleeping here for the night, instead of her house as he has been doing almost since Caroline recovered. She was about to phone him when she saw the front door opening and the man – vampire – himself emerged. He saw her when she flashed her car lights, carried Damon inside, dumping him on the couch, and returning to join her. He _was_ staying at her house then. _Great!_


	15. Pain fades with time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline deals with the memory of her rape in an unexpected manner. Bonnie is close to finding the way to get rid of Trotter and Damon once again says something wrong.

Caroline was home. Caroline was crying. Caroline _remembered._ There was no longer a hole where the last seven months had been, four since _that night_. She recalled the rape and abuse, she cherished the memory of the letter she’d written and _sent_ , she cringed at the sight of Bonnie’s head bleeding because of her, she felt the always there and always healing lacerations on her wrists and ankles from where she’d been tied, she remembered _why_ that had happened. She remembered Damon, his pain, his abuse, his recovery – _their friendship._ She could vividly recollect every bit of lost memory and feeling and action and pain and sorrow. And it _hurt!_ She’d thought it would, when – if – it happened, but she had never imagined _this. Not this!_

She was shaking and sobbing and laughing and completely fucking still all at once. She felt alive, yet wanted death. It made no sense seeing as she’d almost died several times since the Salvatore’s return to Mystic Falls and she’d fought for her life every single one. Now she just wanted the peace and calm and _not hurting, can’t breathe! can’t breathe! CAN’T BREATHE! It hurts too much, make it stop, make… make –_

“Caroline! Love, calm down. Caroline you have to calm down, sweetheart!” someone was shaking her, calling her name and hugging her. Someone… warm and safe and… Klaus! It was Klaus holding her, Klaus’ strong arms around her stopping her crying and giving her strength. The strength she no longer seemed to have, the power she needed to move away from this and come out on the other side stronger still. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, not as the feeling of _him_ moving over her was vivid in her mind, not when she could feel every single kick and punch and scratch. Not when she was close to shuddering in Klaus’ arms in shame and filth, she wanted to hide in her shower, let the water running at burning hot and stay there forever, or until her skin fell away and she could finally find some semblance of clean. Shaking her head, she swallowed, clearing her throat. She wasn’t about to let him win! That monster would not break her, not again.

“Caroline.” She heard Klaus utter into her hair, his lips against her temple so she felt the warmth of his breath. She shivered, not from cold, not in fear and remembrance. She raised her hands from where she’d buried them in her lap and put them on his shoulders. Gently, trying to convey her need and reassure him she was slowly calming, she rubbed up and down his sleeve-covered arms, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Sighing, her head fell forward, nestling into the crook of his neck, her lips brushing past his pulse. She added a hasty kiss there, before her courage left her. She did however revel in the gasp he could not help or hold back, her feminine pride swelling up with joy. A small, lazy and pained smile graced her lips when she drew back, her eyes finding his. She swore her heart gave an extra pump when she noticed the yellow flash through them spasmodically.

“Klaus…” a whisper, a plea, a promise. His eyes darkened, his body tensed, but he was confused. She remembered now, how could she even think about this, when not five minutes ago she had been crying and afraid. He was about to ask, but his mind went perfectly blank as she brought his head down harshly, merging their mouths in a frenzied kiss that left both moaning and panting for air despite not needing it. His hands found her shirt and carefully, as though to not startle her, his fingers lightly caressed her lower back, itching for more. She broke free, her lips reattaching to his neck, her teeth biting into heated flesh, though not drawing blood. He let his head fall backwards with a sharp breath. She let herself be surrounded by him, his scent, his caress, his breath and his kisses, his gentle yet firm hold. She felt safe and she wanted a distraction almost as much as she loved him. She felt as if she would drown in his body, and never did she want to escape. Another hiss of pleasure was ripped from her as his hands found more flesh. Before she knew it, her shirt had been discarded and her hands were fumbling with his belt buckle frantically. The night was but a blur, a rise of steam in a sea of so much fire that consumed them.

* * *

 

Bonnie’s eyes flashed bright green. Her hands shook with a barely restrained nervousness and excitement. She’d found it. _The spell is right here._ Her head swarmed with the realization that this nightmare could be stopped. The dream she’d given up on made true, at last. She had to tell this to someone, but Caroline would be sleeping at this hour and Klaus was most likely keeping watch on her. Mrs. Forbes had work the next day so that was out of the question, and regardless of that she was just scraping the surface of the supernatural world. That just left –

“Damon.” The whisper hung in the air, as still as her abandoned house. She didn’t want to see him tonight, not after running out on her twice since she’d awoken. He had not even greeted her when he and Caroline arrived, and tonight … well he seemed to be wallowing in his own troubles, too drunk to even properly talk to her even though he had been waiting near her house. She’d felt him, a silent, contained mountain of power radiating so bright she was momentarily blind sighted by it. Did he really hate her so much?

But that wasn’t true either. She had known that for a while now, a long time really, if she were to be honest to at least herself. She had stopped hating him the moment he’d saved Caroline’s life, despite the problems it later caused, he had accepted her earlier still, when he’d thanked her, however reluctantly, for saving his life. 

Her eyes return to the ritual. It seems easy enough to perform, and while the ingredients were somewhat hard to come by, it wasn’t impossible, however the power behind it was massive. It was more than anything she’d imagined, anything she’d dreamt of. _It would kill her._ And a dead witch was a useless one, or at least that’s what Damon would think. She had to find a way of reversing it without actually unravelling the Magick that created it.

Bonnie rose to her feet swiftly. Grams had kept a special ritualistic handbook here ever since she’d revealed to Bonnie she was a witch. She’d thought it would come in handy eventually. Looks like Grams was right all along, she was protecting and helping her even in death. Tears welled up in Bonnie’s eyes at the memories of her now deceased grandmother, the woman that raised her when her mother left, the woman that taught her what being a witch meant. She took the old, dusty book and began reading. She would tell Damon, but she needed more information before then. She needed a solution.

Minutes passed like hours, but soon enough she had her answer. The ritual could not be broken by her, not with her limited and inexperienced power, but it could be modified to serve another purpose. Rituals were fickle like that, dangerous for the same reason. If she could somehow change its function from feeding Trotter life to maybe giving them power, than they’d win. It was a gamble, Magick she’d never before tried had a knack for failing, but she’d do it. She would risk everything – she _did_ risk everything – for her friends. This was the best way, _the only way._

* * *

 

Damon was drunk. He was more than aware of that. It was a universal truth by now, yet he immediately sobered when the judgy little witch came into the Boarding House, her face a mask of confidence and purpose and determination. She had found something. He refused to turn and face her so he stubbornly remained facing the fireplace that was not even turned on. He heard her when she called him, he heard the quickening beat of her heart as she grew angrier, but his mind was still cloudy with alcohol and Liz’s words. _“I think she may like you a bit”_ she’d said, but what did that even mean?

He shook his head clear, in spite of another mouthful of bourbon sliding over his tongue and down his throat. The burn it left behind made his heart sing and his ache for blood lessen. His confusion though remained unscathed as did his uninvited guest. Bonnie stopped just behind him, only a few feet away from his back, so close he could feel her anger radiating off of her.

“Damon! If you don’t want to listen to me, at least have the decency to say so. Oh! Wait, I forgot! I thought that since I’d been away for so long you’d grown up, I see I was wrong. I should have known better than to believe Caroline about you.” She sneered, her every word a venomous sound to his ears. _Some things never change after all, witchy._

“And I should have remembered just how judgmental you are. It had been heaven these past few months! I have never been so –“  but not even _he_ was drunk enough to say the incredibly idiotic thing he had been about to utter. He kicked himself for the road his brain had decided to take. It made sense in a way, he always seemed to be doing the wrong thing or saying the worst possible sentence in a situation that could have been avoided to begin with. He really should learn to shut up sometimes.

“SO WHAT?! HAPPY?!! WELL, YOU CAN FUCK OFF!”

“Oh, Judgy can swear, alert the media! Poor Sheila, rolling in her grave” and despite his best intentions there he goes again! He can’t shut his stupid mouth, now can he?!

“I…How … HOW DARE YOU?!!” but whatever she had thought to say next fell short in comparison to what she did. In a burst of magic unlike any she had felt before, she had flung Damon on the other wall so fast it was supersonic. His back collided with the wall, bits and pieces of rubble already falling from the contact. He let out a gasp of pain, blood splattering onto the ground as he spits it out. His face contorted in pain, he tries to get up, but fails as she puts pressure on his body, as if she can control gravity. He feels small and crushed, he can’t breathe, his lungs heavy and compressed against his ribcage. He is too far gone to understand anything she must be yelling at him.

“I … I….I’m s-sorr-rry!” he lets out a short gasp-like sound that fades into the darkness surrounding him. That is when she drops her hand, her mind going to that special, familiar blankness as it always does when she stops using her magic. The moment that both terrifies her and gives her joy.  Damon drops to the floor with a dull thud, followed by the sound of dust and more rubble falling and hitting wood. A groan, a curse and a wheezing breath drawn and he’s up and putting his hands around her neck.

“What was that?! Huh, witch?” he doesn’t even realize the moment the aneurism hits his mind, but he remembers the moment his knees connect with the floor, kneeling in front of his witch. _Wow, stop right there, when did I start to think of her as mine?! God, my head is killing me!_

“Pause! Break! Stop!” and she does to both of their surprises. “Judgy, I take back the comment about your grandmother if you take back the freaking pain!”

“Why should I? You said you were happy when I was in a coma?!” she hissed.

“But I DIDN’T!” he screams back, getting up and encasing her in his arms as he walks her backwards. She feels the wall on her back and his warm breath hitting her face and she can’t stop the blush from spreading, there was too much excitement, too soon. She doesn’t even realize the darkness swarming at the edges of her vision before she faints. Damon catches her, cradling her lithe body to his chest.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect?”


	16. Bonnie Bennett II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's wrong with Damon, Caroline's day gets worse by the minute and Bonnie isn't sure whether she is happy to be back or she wishes she wasn't.

“Bonnie… Bon-bon? You up? Come on, Judgy, there you go! Now, why did you come here?”

_Slap_! Her palm to his cheek, the sound resonating throughout the room. Panting, she looks around and doesn’t recognize her surroundings so she asks him where she is. He glares, rubbing his abused cheek, red and most likely throbbing, but answers nonetheless.

“My bedroom.” He smirks and leers at her. She has to fight back the instinct to hit him again, it’s hard though. The look in his eyes makes her feel small, _weak_ , and she hates it, that’s what she used to feel before. Before she found out she was a witch, before she learned and trained, before the death and heartache. Before becoming strong. But there is something else swimming at the further, most darkened corner of his eyes, something uncertain, afraid even, maybe.

_Stupid thought, Bennett! He’s Damon Fucking Salvatore! He kills without batting an eye, what does he have to fear? Especially from little old you?!_ She scowls at her own traitorous thoughts, but focuses on him, and on why she came out so late. He does need to know this however much she might have enjoyed pissing him off more. There are moments for that later, when their lives are not in danger, when they don’t have to fight. She can wait until then.

“The ritual. I found it! I think I can change it to stop feeding – Trotter? – anyway, _him_ , power. But instead the target. Meaning Klaus in this case.” She realizes she has no reason, no nothing really, to smile about, particularly at the vampire, but she finds herself doing it nonetheless and he answers with a quick grin of his own, before he drops into his thinking stance. She takes the time to study him, to really see him for the first time in a very long while. She’d noticed his eyes before, of course, - which girl or woman, sane or otherwise, could deny their beauty? – but they seemed to sparkle in the dim lights, dancing with … she couldn’t possibly name the emotion in them, she didn’t want to know. She let herself trace the lines of his face next, not as hard as she’d always imagined him in her mind, softer somehow now, maybe she was seeing things though; she _has_ just woken up from a long coma. And finally, without her approval, her eyes fall to his lips, slightly parted in thought, with pink, supple flesh that she could almost feel on her own. His breath was slow, calm and even, and _so_ warm and close. _When did we get so close?_

She blinked and the moment was broken though not forgotten in the slightest as he drew impossibly closer that her, air stuck in her lungs, and her heart lurched painfully in her chest. What was he doing? _Was he going to –?_ No, he was just reaching for his phone which seemed to be ringing and probably had been for quite a while whilst she’d been daydreaming. That’s when she’d felt it. The … _that heartbeat wasn’t her owns!_

He had missed a call from the mayor, he saw as the ringing ceased as he hadn’t answered it in time. But he’d been distracted by the little witch studying him so thoroughly that he almost missed the sound entirely. He was just about to confront her about her voyeuristic tendencies when he notices something wasn’t right. The look on her face, small frown, pursed lips and stormy green eyes, said as much and so he quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

“What is it, my little Bon-fire?” he almost, _almost_ grimaced at the horribly pun, but her startle was too suspicious. She had seen … _what exactly?_

She spoke of nothing though, just reached a hand tentatively towards him, letting it drop to his neck and pressed two fingers firmly over his pulse point, or where it should have been. Her brow furled and a frown appeared. Now he was worried.

“Judgy, however much I may enjoy this, if you don’t speak up soon, I’ll just have to find another way of getting you to talk that I’m sure you won’t both approve or like. So what?! The ?! Hell?!” he stressed the last question enough to get her to snap her view from her hand still at his neck to his blue eyes. She looked as worried as he felt. And the heat and press of her fingers on his neck was doing things to him he hadn’t felt since Katherine.

“I – Damon – Y- You have- have a pulse.” She stuttered, but the information reached him well enough to give his pause.

“I do know that. Just because it’s so slow most wouldn’t sense even with a heart monitor doesn’t mean it isn’t there …” he trailed off at the combination between fear and aggravation on her face. He was certain about what caused the latter, but the first?

“No! Not that! You have a normal, human-paced heartbeat. I… how is that possible?!” she was agitated, he could see and frankly he was pretty unsure himself. He had hoped she’d been messing with him, despite the fact that it was _Bonnie Bennett_ , but no such luck. He got a flash of Trotter and a particular appendage on his cheek, but that couldn’t have cause something like this! _Could it?_ That was silly and impossible, everyone knew there was no way for vampire to revert back to human… was there? He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill up with air and then let it out. He stopped breathing then, a not so common, but simple enough act, yet he soon found himself desperate for air, his lungs burning and screaming at him. He breathed in. He listened to his surrounding and found his senses dulled, mediocre at best, yet he had put that aside due to the sheer amount of alcohol in him and finally, he checked his heart. Bonnie was right. He had a steady, healthy heartbeat. He was… human? How the hell?! Was that possible? And even if so, he so didn’t want to be, he loved being a vampire. Sure he hadn’t wanted to become one after Kat- no let’s not go there again tonight. Fact remained, he had grown used and learned to love and accept what and who he is. Why was this happening now?

Sensing his confusion and fear, Bonnie moved the hand still at his neck down to his shoulder and then to his upper arm giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked at her like a deer caught in headlights and her own heart ached. He didn’t deserve this.

* * *

 

Caroline was in heaven. She had to be. It was warm and safe and bright. She never wanted to leave. But just as everything in her –going-to-be-long and annoying – life the feeling is shattered soon. The light of the sun too bright and hot on her face, her back stuck at an uncomfortable angle and aching from being in such a position throughout the night, her legs squished beneath another’s, stopping what little circulation she had left and she couldn’t breathe. Not that she really needed to, but the reflex was there and something was impeding it. She almost screamed aloud, a truly twin reaction to her inner yell of irritation, but she stopped at just the right moment. That’s when she felt the stickiness of her own body, making the sheets tangle even worse; the low hum in her lower half, not that unpleasant considering how she’d gotten it, but in addition to the rest of her traitorous body it was still bad and finally, the bone-deep physical exhaustion, her muscles screaming at her to STOP BLOODY MOVING! and _Oh, God, I’m turning into him!_ She lamented.

“Caroline.” Her name, in his voice, his slightly slurred by sleep, low and enticing voice, spoken from that mouth, those curved, smiling, pink and still swollen lips. It was really no wonder why suddenly her body minded the varying annoyances with as little care as her mind had earlier. So she leaned up, grinning like the teenager she is supposed to be and kisses him, long and sweet and slow, like they have all the time in the world – which, really, they do, but that’s beside the point – moulding into his like clay.

“Nik.” She whispers in his ear and waits. It’s the first time she’s called him anything besides Klaus, and the fact that she chose his family’s nickname as well makes her extra jumpy, but he just kisses her harder and she finds herself not caring if the world ends in the next 5 seconds. She is more than aware she’s fallen, fallen deep and fast and irrevocably and there is nothing she can, or would, do to take it back. _OH! I_ love _him!_

_“_ I love you” she then continues, the thought slipping past her lips without her consent or knowledge.

“As do I, my love.” And she just fucking melts. It’s ridiculous how she reacts, her lips parted, her eyes widened and her smile grows so large she swears she can feel the corners of her mouth crack under the strain. He mimics the smile, but otherwise is content to just gazing at her. She can still feel the knots in her back, she still curses the sheets and her too sticky body, she still hates the sun, but it isn’t so bad anymore. Not bad at all.

“Care, sweetie! You need to get up!” she hears her mom and she lets out a string of rather colourful language to which he chuckles. She runs into the bathroom and while showering she tells him to leave through the window so her mom doesn’t realize what they’d done the night before. Hybrid or not, she’d find a way to castrate him and she prefers him whole. He almost doesn’t listen, the promise of her anger nigh impossible to resist, but he eventually concedes to the point. Never mess with the Forbes’ women. He wonders when he’d become so domesticated. He wonders why he doesn’t even care anymore.

“Coming mom!”

* * *

 

Breakfast finds the two blondes in the company of a certain British gentleman, which neither woman seems to mind much, if only he would keep his hands to himself enough for Caroline to tell her mother about the whole thing … or at least part of it. But even this isn’t half as bad as what happens when Damon and Bonnie arrive. It makes Caroline wish this morning’s irritation would have been the end of it, the height of all shitty things she’d have to put up with today. But her life sucks so it isn’t. _Of course Trotter’s freaky tongue had some kind of cure to vampirism, duh it got to Damon; obviously they had to go back!_

* * *

 

“Mark, I do hope everything is as it should be there. I would hate for something to happen to my favourite creature.” A woman’s voice comes through the phone.

“Nothing I cannot handle, mistress. Will you return soon? I wish you were here, mistress.” The man, Mark Trotter, answers dutifully and obediently. He exchanges a few more words with the woman, the witch, his mistress, and hangs up. It is high time for another dose, strange how the time elapses so suddenly that now he needs to use the hexagram daily. He must be careful though. The two vampires from yesterday had certainly found his little secret. Too bad he didn’t get the blonde as well. Oh, it doesn’t matter, the male got hit and is now human, slowly dying again. No more forever, not unless they find the antidote… He chuckles darkly at that, _huh, antidote, as if they could kill me._

Exiting the kitchen of his diner, pitiful place, to serve his customers, pathetic creatures that they were, humans, he revels in the pride he feels. His mistress called him her favourite, she had decided to leave the task of ruining her enemy and son’s heart to him and then she’d praised him for his efficiency. He only ever wished his mistress to be happy and victorious. She was both now, due to him. As he snarled at a human, he smiled inside himself. Yes, those two had seen his secret, but there was nothing they could do to stop him.


	17. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnie and Damon have a plan. Klaus and Caroline prepare to fight. Bonnie shows her strength and Damon just hopes to survive it all.

 

Damon had a headache. His skull felt overflowing and as if someone was drilling through it. He also felt sick to his stomach. It was clear: he hated being human more than anything else in the world. And it just had to be the day of their great plan – “Kill Trotter” – the name needed work, but the plan was good enough. Bonnie had pieced it up together with him last night so it had to work out. Now if only he could turn vampire again, but he couldn’t. Caroline had been kind enough to try it, then Klaus too and he just couldn’t keep the blood down, hence he _couldn’t fucking turn back!_

A low groan slipped past his lips as the incessant throbbing in his skull reached new pitches, his hands tightened and he could feel the bones cracking and the tiny jolts of pain shooting through his body as he made himself bleed. Once upon a time – Fucking YESTERDAY! – that kind of pain was no even registered, now he could feel it through him and it just angered him further. Klaus was next to him, nursing a glass of very fine whiskey and frowning in worry. He might have had a point there, considering that what they’d face was for all intents and purposes a monster, but Damon couldn’t find it in him care enough about his soon-to-be-dead prospect. He was _human_. And he hated it!

He looked at the door of the boarding house as it burst open and in came Blondie accompanied by Bonnie Bennett. He was about to make one of his usual jabs when he saw what she was holding in her arms. He’d known, for a while actually, what rituals employed, but never in his relatively long life had he ever imagined that he would see the Bennett witch, the thorn in his side with her righteous attitude and perpetual disapproval of all things bad, carrying a human skull, a few years old at most, a jar full, fresh and still warm, worth of human and goat blood and another jar of … whatever insects those were. Those items, in combination to the already installed cauldron in his library, spelled danger, and darkness, and unnatural use of magic, _and power beyond belief_. If the witch got this spell – ritual, whatever – right, then he was not above begging her to marry him. Strong, bitchy women seemed to be his type after all. A flash of Katherine’s vampire face, from back in 1864, her eyes red her mouth bloody as he kissed her caused his equilibrium to shift momentarily and his heart to ache once more. _Katherine’s dead..._

“Damon! You with us or still mentally murdering someone?!” he hears a voice, snappy and sarcastic, yell in his direction and turns to see Caroline, hands on her hips, scowl of worry on her face, teary eyes almost running and with the fiercest determination that he has ever seen. He remembers wondering, in those months after the ‘cut in half, but not quite’ incident why he had even entertained the idea of being friends with her, but this, this image of fear being conquered and then pure will power chasing the enemy away, is exactly why. She is a small thing, weak and frail and full of sunshine – _no, Klaus, you didn’t patent the expression! I can still use it!_ – but she is a hellfire when she wants to be.

“I’m here.” He grumbles, still angry about his ‘condition’, but more than willing to aid them in this nigh suicidal mission. Bonnie starts explaining the ritual again, in full detail. It involves Klaus and Caroline standing in the hexagram while she chants and does some shit or another with those ingredients she’s gathered there. He is supposed to have been the one making sure the witch lives so all of them could too, and while that’s still the case, the premise had changed a bit. Instead of betting on his vampire power and speed, now they count on his soldier training, century and a half worth of Intel on how to kill and sheer luck.  Maybe one of them can make it out of this alive, because he sure as hell doesn’t have any prospects. He might just write his testament down now. ‘I leave my alcohol collection to my best buddy Alaric, should he ever return to the land of sanity, my wonderful tub to Blondie and my car to no one. Bon-bon gets to keep my underwear drawer blah and blah and blah.’ He didn’t have many possessions to give after he died, why would he have?

“... still think you can do this?” he hears and he’s certain the witch had said something before this, but for the – ugh! – _life_ of him he can’t remember what.

“Yes, relax, witch, I can take Trotter. Just give me some of Ric’s guns and I’m peachy!” he says while stealing Klaus’ drink and downing it in one full sweep. The burn it leaves in his throat is both familiar and foreign and he just rejoices that his alcohol tolerance is about the same as when he was a member of the undead. Small mercies and all.

“Mate, I’m sure your ego thinks that, but you’re hu-“

“Don’t you fucking dare say that! It doesn’t matter. I’m going, I’ll help and you all need me so that’s that. Just try and keep me alive, huh?” and that is how the conversation ends. Soon the quartet is in the car, caldron and all, and headed out of Mystic Falls, wind and snow and ominous feelings swirling in their wake. Blonde hair pales, black and brown whitens, it had started snowing again.

* * *

 

Liz sits calmly, or as calmly as she possibly can, while her family is far away fighting for their lives. She sits and buries herself in work and drinks and paces and one minute she’s livid the next terrified. She can’t figure out what she wants, she wants them home, she wants them to never have gone out in the first place, she wants them to kill him, she just _wants._ It’s half past five in the early evening, the sun’s descending already – the horizon rosy and purple and dying out and the comparison is a sharp blow to the stomach because they could be dying too – when the phone rings and behind the line she hears the panting, pained, but _so alive_ voice of Klaus Mikaelson, and for the life of her she can’t recall the last time this unbelievable, impossible relief settled over her. She lets out a sob of some unknown feeling and collapses onto the couch as the hybrid begins his story.

* * *

 

They’d arrived in the town less than an hour later and stopped on the outskirts, Damon tasked with leading them to the hexagram since Caroline just couldn’t do it. The wind was howling and the large snowflakes impaired even the hybrid’s vision, it was cold. Still, they walked at a brisk pace, the snow not even hindering their pace and before long, the hexagram – dark and unburied since it had not been three days of their digging it out – was in sight, laying in wait, an ominous symbol of all their recent troubles.

Seeing and recognizing his mother’s handy work, Klaus swore and a few dark thoughts rushed through his mind, each more gruesome than the other, each depicting Esther’s long awaited death. It was satisfying in a way, these thoughts, yet at the same time frustrating since neither he, nor his siblings had managed to uncover her trail. All they had were supposition and rumours, he wasn’t sure it was enough anymore.

Caroline shook, her eyes wide to focus on the road ahead, yet her trembling had close to nothing in relation to the cold wind and even icier weather, instead her body reacted to the power and pain inflicted by the proximity to the ritualistic symbol. She could now remember every feeling, every wound and hear every scream she made as she was being held down by Trotter’s lackeys and she wanted to curl up in on herself and stay there, just like that, safe and warm and cut off from the rest of the world forever. She knew now more than ever she could not, she had to be strong, to prove to both herself and to the others, to Nik, that she could fight this, all of this. The memories and the creature responsible. She could do it.

Bonnie and Damon didn’t think, they plotted, together, voices in hushed tone and communicating more with their expressions than actual words, but a plan, better and with more chances of survival for all present, was slowly beginning to form between the two of them. The initial plan had many flaws, so many and so important that it was a miracle they even considered going through with it, this one had less. There were still enough mistakes to be made, but at least there wasn’t the certainty that Damon would die before the hour was over, because despite his best and fiercest intentions, he was now human and thus easily breakable by the creature that Mark Trotter was. It was a fact she could not ignore and would not allow to happen. She had invested too much in the blue eyed, black haired annoyance that is Damon Salvatore to just let him die without at least a fighting chance. So she gave him some power, enough of a magic boost to give him half of the speed and strength he had had as a vampire, enough regeneration spells to heighten and quicken his body’s natural healing powers. It should be enough, it _had to be!_

It was still snowing when Bonnie began heating up her cauldron and adding ingredient after ingredient to the mix until it resulted in a dark brownish colour that smell something awful. She then instructed Caroline and Klaus to step into the hexagram, holding each other by their forearms tight enough to draw blood. They were supposed to sit as still as they possibly could while she chanted the ritual and when the time came they were supposed to drink the horrible potion she had mixed. It probably would kill them; the Bennett witch told the pair to which she received a glare from the hybrid and an indignant scream from Caroline. Bonnie just shrugged and began chanting.

She was half way through the ritual, her eyes glowing darker by the second with the increase in power and her hands shaking in exertion, when the creature hurled itself at her, teeth barred and body lithe and dangerous. She would have been hit had Damon not stepped in the right moment with a shot of the rifle and a well aimed kick to the ribs, causing the old man turned beast to let out a whine not unlike that of a wounded dog. But the relief was short lived as Trotter jumped back to his feet, rushing towards the hexagram and ripping through Damon’s right arm with a bite that hurt like hell.

Bleeding and dizzy, the former vampire stumbled toward the bazooka Ric had left behind and that they consider as a last resort, taking aim and hoping for a clean hit despite the hazy vision and unsteady hands. He pulled the trigger, the inertia of the shot blasting him back several feet and jamming into his shoulder with enough force to hurt and dislodge the bone. Trotter was on the floor, a hole through his belly and breathing shallow when Damon looked one last time in his direction before consciousness left him.

Bonnie had heard the blast, smelt the smoke and then saw the Salvatore collapsing, but she could not dwell on it long as a new blast of power drainage almost made her stumble and she chocked on the words hard. She lifted a hand, giving a glass filled with potion for Klaus and Care to drink from when she recovered and tried to hasten her words, to rush the spell. Trotter was getting up soon.

“Bonnie! Look out!” yelled Caroline, blonde hair swaying in the harsh wind as she spun to round a kick to the head upon seeing the creature next to her friend. She made sure to remain in the hexagram though; the ritual had to be finished. Bonnie’s voice began rising in volume as the end approached and Klaus was itching to get out and fight. He was not used to just staying passively and letting other take his fights. Still gripping Caroline by the forearms, her tossed her into the witch when the ritual ended and he felt power so strong that he could not see for a few seconds, then he was ripping through Trotter, piece by piece, tearing him apart limb by limb, blood exploding on his tongue and carnage surrounding him.

Bonnie let out a scream when Caroline, her power also heightened, swung her over a shoulder and rushed to Damon’s side, dragging him along towards the car. She dumped them both inside and headed back out. She reached Klaus just as Trotter mentioned a cure for Damon, but she knew Damon would not want it as long as it required Trotter alive so she tore out his heart, tossing it aside carelessly. When the surge of raw power faded, she and Klaus returned in time to see Damon coming to and Bonnie dialling Caroline’s mother and giving the phone to Nik as she rested in the back seat, head leaning into Damon’s. Caroline slid into the driver’s seat and she started the engine when Klaus began explaining to Liz what had happened. Turning her eyes towards her best friends, Caroline Forbes’s mind went into matchmaker mode. They were just too cute together! With a dizzy smile she left the town and now broken hexagram behind, focusing on the future and on healing her still shattered being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. There is the epilogue coming hopefully tomorrow.


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline and Klaus leave for New Orleans. Bonnie and Damon get an unexpected surprise.

 

Life regained its normal course, winter went on and left and Caroline learned to cope with the memories of her rape, Klaus always by her side. When the nightmares threatened to swallow her whole, he was there to hold her and softly whisper in her ear reassurances of all her strength.

Damon fought each day with his new mortality, but he seemed to be doing better, adjusting under the care of one Bonnie Bennett. The struggle of adjusting to a steady heartbeat and breathing becoming a necessity again took an awful lot of time, but at least over the centuries he’d gathered enough money to never need to work a day even if he remained human, which he hoped he didn’t. The two spent so much time together nowadays that it was a surprise to Caroline that she even needed her plan any longer, but she did as both parties involved were too stubborn to make peace and get down to business.

“Operation Bamon” was developing nicely, her ideas many and complex, yet subtle as to not be discovered, it was a blast! The blonde vampire had been particularly delighted when she managed to rope Klaus into her plans, much to the Original’s horror. He was now the one keeping score of Damon and Bonnie’s whereabouts as well as in charge of when – which was often – Caroline exaggerated in order to ground her back to Earth. Liz was just glad she had finally got her family back. Winter passed in this manner, the cold and whiteness vanishing into warmth and colours.

“Mom! Nik and I are going out! We’ll be back at about 10!” Caroline screamed as she rushed out the door, slamming it in her wake. In the car, Klaus chuckled, amusement at her antics, and waited patiently. It was their sixth official date and they were still happy with each other, something neither had thought possible despite agreeing to give their relationship a chance. Klaus let her settle in, calmly started the engine as the blonde waved at the window where Liz was looking from, and then he swept in, capturing her lips and thoroughly kissing her. It left Caroline dazed, smiling widely and internally giggling like mad.

“Love, how are you?” he turned to her, eyes softening. He had been there with her every day since she first got back her memories. It had been a struggle, learning to live with this knowledge, for the both of them, yet it had only served to bring them closer. He discovered what it meant to comfort someone, to offer solace to a soul damaged and broken that didn’t seem to be able to be cured. He discovered what it felt like for your own heart to shatter when another person was crying out their heart, what it meant to love and be loved and how much it could overcome.

“I’m fine.” She said, grinning with her whole face, if only her eyes could truly reflect that because in spite of her physical well being, and her slowly mending mental health, it would take an even longer time for her emotionally state to return to what it used to be, if it would ever. They both knew she still awoke late at night, screaming and sweating and gasping for air, her hands clutched, knuckles white and eyes filled with dread. They knew she would lay crying hours later, be it because of the trauma or because of her own weakness. She would be trembling in his arms, struggling to control her breath and to regulate her heartbeat and yet all he would be able to do is hold onto her. He hated it, being this useless.

“WEEELL … Let’s move on, I want to talk about something first. You know how I said I want to lock Damon and Bonnie in a closet until they give in to their desires… “ she trailed off, biting her lower lip and refusing to meet his eyes. That could only mean one thing.

“Please tell me you did not do what I suspect you did.” He deadpanned, one hand going through his hair in an exasperated fashion. She would be the death of him, he swears it’s true.

“I kind of, maybe, perhaps, possibly did it…” her voice dropped another few more decibels as she began fiddling with her hands, fingers twisting and pulling and curling. He resisted the urge to laugh aloud, it would seem insensitive.

“How” he began. “did you manage _that_?!” he could not, under any circumstance, leave the tone of perplexity behind as his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“I kind of tricked Bonnie into it.” She smiled then, sheepish, meek, but oh so proud of her own handy work. He was proud too; his lover had finally learnt how to lie. He had been getting worried about her inability.

“What you mean to tell me is that somewhere, right now, there are two incredibly stubborn and dangerous people locked in a closet together because you lied to your best friend, one of said people and then trapped her in with your other best friend.” His tone was calm, no inflections as to not encourage his anger to arise.

“Yeeeessss” she stretched out the word, ending it with one of her brightest, mage-watt smiles that had him sighing in disbelief. “I hope it won’t cone to bite _me_ in the ass.” he continued and then dropped the subject, intent on distracting himself with their date.

Hours later, Caroline was being walked to her bedroom door when she wondered if the two brunets had managed to work through their differences. As she kissed Klaus good night and was prepared to close her door, thus ending their date night, his phone rang. On the other side of the line she recognized Rebekah’s accented voice.

Caroline Forbes had seen many things in her life, especially with the coming into town of new supernatural residents, but never had she seen someone pale so fast. It was like all the colour was drained away from his face, his jaw loosened and then clenched, his fingers twitched on the phone and she could see the emotions swimming in that blue stare. Rebekah has just become the head of her “I hate you because reasons” list in less than ten seconds.

“Nik, what’s wrong?” she whispered, gripping his arm and feeling the muscles contracting beneath.

As he closed his phone, he answered her. “They’ve found mother. She is trying to bring back Mikael.” Her jaw dropped, her body froze. She knew what Mikael had done to him, what he represented and what he would do if resurrected. It couldn’t be allowed to happen. “I need to go and meet with them. They will need my help.”

The words wouldn’t come out so all she could do was nod her head like a bobble-head doll. She rushed to hug him though, feeling his anger wash over her. She realized then what she had to do. “I’m coming with.” And there was no changing her mind. A heated look passed between them, both unwilling to let their decisions go. In the end she won. He wasn’t losing her again.

“Hey! What happened to Operation Bamon?” she wondered aloud slightly later, ripping a laughter from Klaus. She was incorrigible sometimes!

* * *

 

“I will kill Blondie!” Damon yelled, anger read in his every movement. Bonnie shifted beside him, but nodded anyway, her eyes swimming with promises of payback. Caroline Forbes would pay for this! Even is her plan sort of worked, thought the witch as she and Damon partook in another kiss. Good thing that the blonde would be long gone by the time they finally manage to get out the next day. It is really for the best.

* * *

 

“So where did they go Liz?” Damon asks, curious and concerned.

“I don’t –“ but she can’t finish the thought because the door bell rings and all three occupants of the living room are distracted. Bonnie is the first on her feet, already making her way to the front door leaving the sheriff and former vampire to ponder about their visitor. Somehow they all doubted that either Caroline or Klaus forgot anything.

By the time the door is swung open by the brunette witch, Damon is behind her, one arm around her waist, a habit he seemed to have developed sometime between last night and this afternoon. She didn’t really mind, whatever last night had changed, it was something that needed experimentation which they’d both agreed to try. It was just the possessiveness of the act that grated on her. That and the people behind the doorway.

“Damon, Bonnie, Sheriff Forbes.” Said Stefan Salvatore with a grim expression on his face – nothing new there, at least – holding an unconscious, bleeding Elena Gilbert – again, they should have guessed. Damon gulped rather comically and had it been anyone else, Bonnie would have considered teasing him about it, but she was aware of what had happened between the brothers, more so what had led to Caroline and Damon becoming friends. _Why did Stefan and Elena have to return now?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in the sequel: Betray and Forgive. It'll be more focused on Bamon developing and how Stelena being back changes things, also Esther... and the other Originals. If you enjoyed this then comments. ^_^


End file.
